


Flutter

by bking4



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Gen, POV Ginny Weasley, Psychological Trauma, Ritual Magic, Rituals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 10:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 90,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17661095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bking4/pseuds/bking4
Summary: The traces of Dark magic aren't swept away with a summer and a trip abroad. It leaves marks on its victims, deep gouges in their soul, and just being in its presence can irrevocably change a person. You can never really overcome Dark magic, only survive it and hope for the best. This is Ginny Weasley, doing her best.





	1. Falling

"I know that I don’t look like much

An old worn hat like me

But none can Sort as well as I

Or sing so well in key

The founders time is now long past

And yet our school stands strong

So it’s up to me to figure out

The House where you belong!

Is it Gryffindor, Great Godric’s House

He who loves the bold

Will you thrive under pressure

In the house of scarlet ‘n gold?

Or is it Hufflepuff for you, my friend

Where Dear Helga would permit

Into her house of yellow and black

Only those who will not quit!

Maybe Ravenclaw suits you the best

Shrewd Rowena would be thrilled

To make you blue and bronze in true

If knowledge leaves you fulfilled

Or Slytherin! Sly Salazar would choose

Those students who show cunning

If you’ll do anything to reach your goals

In green and silver you’ll look stunning

If you’re unsure ‘bout where to go

You don’t need to decide

I’ll take a peek inside your head

From me you cannot hide!

I’ll see it all, and know what’s right

I’ll keep your secrets safe and tight

So there’s no need to feel a-fright

Let’s get this Sorting done tonight!"

The tune echoed in her head as she listened to McGonagall’s voice call out each name, and then the booming shout of the hat.

Ginny turned towards the boy she’d sat on the train with, after her brothers had left to find their own friends. He was a little taller than her, and he’d beat her twice at Exploding Snap, even though she’d had to teach him how to play it. She played with the hem of her frayed, second hand robes and clenched her fist tightly before leaning in to whisper to him.

“What’s your last name?”

“Creevey,” he whispered back. “I’ll be up soon!”

Ginny groaned. “Mine’s Weasley. I’ll be last, for certain!”

The other names were called in a blur, so much so that she would have a hard time remembering who went where, or even who any of her classmates were. But finally, she heard “Weasley, Ginevra!” and she forced herself to walk towards the hat sitting on the stool. Placing it gently on her head, she screwed her eyes up tight and tried very firmly to think of every brave thing she’d ever done.

She peeked out from under the hat, to stare at her brothers. Ron wasn’t anywhere in sight, but Percy, Fred, and George were all staring at her encouragingly, and it made her sick to her stomach. What if the hat put her in the wrong house, and she had to walk to a different table? She could nearly see how horrified they’d be, the looks on their faces!

“ _Hmmm, quite a bit in here to Sort through, I think. Where should we start?”_ The voice felt like a whisper in her ear. Should she respond by thinking or speaking to the hat? Should she talk to the hat at all? She wouldn’t want to distract it!

“ _You’re welcome to think very clearly at me, and I’ll hear it all the same. Or you can whisper if you prefer. I wouldn’t mind your input on the matter. A Sorting is a very serious business, wouldn’t you agree?”_

Ginny decided whispering might be better. She didn’t want to accidentally think the wrong thing. Auntie Muriel had warned her about that once, reminded her how _important_ it was to be the first female Weasley in seven generations, and how she needed to always represent herself well. Ginny just wanted to go out and play in the garden, but it felt like Auntie Muriel, or her Mum, or her brothers were always there to tell her how she was doing everything wrong.

“Can I go to Gryffindor please? That’s where Harry and my brother are!” Although, she hadn’t seen them at the table with Fred, George, or Percy, they were closest to her age, and therefore most important.

“ _That remains to be seen. Quite a bit going on in your head. I see you want to be a famous Quidditch player. And married to Harry Potter! That’s quite the ambition, wouldn’t you say? Slytherin could make you great. Harry will need someone cunning on his side in the coming struggles. And what a good bit of cunning you have - very sneaky of you to practice flying late at night so you wouldn’t be caught and wouldn’t fall behind.”_

Ginny wasn’t sure what this barmy old hat was talking about anymore, but she just wanted to go to Gryffindor! She didn’t care that it was casually displaying all her deepest secrets to her or telling her nonsense about Harry needing someone from Slytherin. She could be a great quidditch player anywhere, and Harry and Ron and her whole family would hate her if she went to Slytherin! She just wanted Gryffindor!

“Please, please, Gryffindor please!”

“ _And what about Hufflepuff? How devoted are you to your dreams? To your friends? I see how sad you were when your Mother wouldn’t let you play with your friend Luna. You even snuck out to see her! Now if that’s not loyalty, I don’t know what is!”_

Ginny felt a little guilty at that. She did miss Luna. But when her Mum had caught her after sneaking out, she’d been grounded so bad she’d never tried to sneak out again. Which meant -.

“I wouldn’t be a very good Hufflepuff, I never tried to see Luna after I got in trouble. But it was brave of me to sneak out, wasn’t it? I knew I might get caught and did it anyways!”

“ _I suppose you aren’t half wrong, although that might be more foolhardy than brave. But what’s this? Hmmm. Yes. You may yet need your own lion’s share of courage. I see the spark for it within you, and I don’t doubt that it will do you well. Remember, though, that being brave isn’t about being fearless. It’s about being afraid and pushing on anyways. That’s what it takes to be a true GRYFFINDOR!”_

Ginny realized how loudly that last word was shouted at about the same time she saw her brothers’ faces light up. She felt her face try and break apart from the force of her smile. She could feel tears stinging at her eyes, threatening to fall down her face, at the fact that the hat had given in to her wish. She rubbed her eyes briefly and tried very hard to keep the tears in because in the immortal words of Fred and George, “no one likes a cry baby.”

As she ran to find a seat, she heard Dumbledore give a speech. Ginny sat next to two girls she didn’t know and peered around the table. Harry and Ron were still missing! She was about to ask Percy, Fred, or George if they knew where her brother and her crush were, when the feast appeared before her.

All thought of anything except for food left Ginny’s mind. Her Mum's cooking was fantastic, that was for certain, but her Mum only ever cooked one meal at a time. And if there was one thing this feast had, it was variety. Ginny didn’t even know for certain what all the food in front of her was called! Some of it she had never even seen before.

As she took a large bite out of the roast lamb and reached for some kind of dish that looked like it had strawberries - her favorite! - in it, she started chatting to one of the girls next to her, introducing herself.

This was going to be a good year.

* * *

Ginny was tired.

She’d been fighting Tom for so long, it felt like it was all she’d ever done. She couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t struggling just to think straight, or to think her own thoughts at all. She could only barely remember the beginning of the year, when her mind was merely consumed by thoughts of Tom, and writing to Tom, and telling Tom about her day, and her dreams, and her hopes, and her fears, and her, and her, and her.

Her life had slowly become Tom. ‘Tom would like this.’ ‘Tom would find that funny.’ ‘Tom would know what to do.’ ‘I should tell Tom.’ Ginny wouldn’t say she had a crush on Tom. He wasn’t noble or heroic like Harry Potter. But he was kind, and smart, and attentive. It was like having Bill around all the time, but he wasn’t her brother which made it all the more special. She just ignored the way her stomach flipped every time Tom told her she was pretty, or smart, or funny. He was just being _nice_.

When Tom wrote back her for the first time on her first night at Hogwarts, she’d been scared. ‘Don’t ever trust something that thinks if you don’t know where it keeps its brain’ her Dad had always said. But then she woke up in the morning and the mirror had talked to her just like Tom had, telling her she should brush her hair, and she didn’t know any of the other people in her year, and Tom was willing to be her friend, and was it really so bad to just want a friend?

Apparently, it was. She made the wrong choice. She wrote to Tom again, that first morning in Hogwarts, even though she’d vowed not to the night before. She talked herself into thinking it was okay. Hogwarts wouldn’t have any dangerous magical objects just laying around, so if it was okay for a mirror to talk to her, and okay for a hat to look inside her head and give her advice, it was surely acceptable to write in a book that wrote back. A book that her parents had probably bought as a late birthday present, no less! They did that sometimes, when money was tight. It’d be a sparse birthday, but then things would just suddenly be there in her room, and she’d hug her Mum and Dad extra tight at breakfast, and it was one big unspoken game.

And besides all that, she was lonely. Not a single one of her brothers had spoken to her at breakfast that first morning, and she hadn’t had any friends! The girl she’d introduced herself to the night before was talking to someone else from their dorm, and Ginny had no one to talk to. Tom was willing to be her friend, so why shouldn’t she take him up on it?

She would get a little tired sometimes, staying up late writing to him, but it was worth it for a few extra hours talking to Tom.

_I don’t know if I’ll be able to remember what we did in class today, Tom. I just couldn’t focus! I kept falling asleep!_

_Don’t worry, Ginny. I remember those classes from when I was a student. Here, let me help you finish your homework. You were working on the most common wand motions, right?_

_Oh Tom, Melaney laughed at me again today! At breakfast, I fell asleep, and my head fell in the porridge! It was almost worse than when I put my elbow in the butter dish while Harry was at my house over summer! I won’t be able to face any of the Gryffindor girls again._

_You don’t need to worry about her, Ginny. You don’t need to worry about any of them. You wouldn’t want a mean friend like her, anyways. A good friend wouldn’t ever laugh at you. I don’t ever laugh at you, do I? You need a friend like me._

She didn’t start to worry until the first time she realized she was missing time.

_Tom. How did we get to dinner? It was just breakfast! I don’t remember any classes from today! Did I get any homework? Did I write to you at all?_

_Not to worry Ginny, you just had a bit of a daydream. Maybe you should head to bed early tonight? I’d miss talking to you, of course, and wouldn’t be able to fill you in on what you missed today in class. But if you’re worried, I’m sure you’ll be able to catch up… eventually…_

_Oh, no, please help me catch up Tom. I already don’t remember today. I can’t fall behind, what would Mum think?!_

Then she started blacking out for longer periods of time.

_Tom. Why is it Monday? Wasn’t it just Thursday? How did my homework get done this weekend? What’s going on? Tom, I’m scared. Please, help me understand, why is this happening?_

_Don’t worry, Ginny. I worked with you on your homework all weekend. It must have just been so boring you forgot about it._

_Tom, people don’t just lose four days of time. It’s not normal. It’s never happened to me before._

_You’re fine, Ginny. I promise. I’m your friend. Don’t you trust me? Don’t you believe me? You should trust me. You believe me_.

Covered in blood, flashes of her standing over the chickens by Hagrid’s house, _snapping their necks._

It came to her at breakfast, in a flash.

“Poor Hagrid looks so sad. I wonder why?”

“Heard all his chickens turned up dead.” Ginny froze, and ice coursed through her veins. She rushed to her dorm, not caring that she skipped her first lesson. She threw her bed curtains aside, and nearly threw up. When she reached, tentatively, under her bed and pulled out her robes, she ran to the bathroom, and lost whatever meager fillings she’d managed to keep down from breakfast.

 _Tom. I remember. Oh, Merlin, Tom, I remember. Why are you doing this? The blood is on my sheets, my room mates almost saw. I’ve been scrubbing my robes for hours. I can… Tom I can still_ hear _the birds squawking as I… as I… Oh Tom. Why? What did I do? Why are you doing this? Why me? Aren’t we friends? I thought we were friends. You said we were friends.._.

That was when she realized how dangerous Tom was. Tom’s honeyed words were no longer so sweet. The next day, when she tried to leave the diary behind, she was paralyzed by the door of her room. She couldn’t leave it behind. Her body wouldn’t listen to her commands. And all that day, she tried desperately not to write in the diary. She couldn’t help it; she had to write to him. She opened the book and his words surfaced, like they floated up from the depths of a deep pool of water. What was once comforting now horrified her.

_What are you doing, Ginny? Aren’t we best friends? Trust me, Ginny. I’ll make all your dreams come true. You’ll be important. You’ll be noticed. You’ll be a somebody._

That was when she started to fight him.

It had been the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life, throwing the book away. She had argued, and struggled, and screamed in that bathroom all alone, her fingers clenched around the book unwilling to let go,

“I hate you, Tom! I do! I won’t let you use me anymore! I should have never written in you, I hate you! I want you to die, I want you to never have anyone to talk to again, I want you to leave me alone!”

Her body was flushed, the quality leather soft against her fingers as she held it tight. Her body dripped with sweat as the muscles in her arms tensed, her jaw set as she struggled with herself. With Tom. What was the difference between them anymore?

Her feet were turning around without her doing it, walking back towards her dorm and out of the bathroom without her wanting it, and she almost started to tell herself it was all in her head, that Tom was a good friend and she was crazy.

But then Tom’s voice was in her ear, crooning, ‘ _Good. You won’t leave me, will you, Ginny? We’re friends, aren’t we Ginny? I’m here to help you, you know that don’t you, Ginny?’_

That was enough to terrify her because Tom had never talked to her while the book was closed before. She’d always had to open it to talk to him, and he only ever wrote back. But strangely enough, he sounded just like she imagined he would.

That horrified her and with a single, piercing, shriek she _threw_ the diary with all her might, into the toilet, and she flushed once, twice, three times before she _sprinted_ out of the bathroom, leaving Tom behind her.

And for a short time, things almost got better.

Then she saw Harry with it. _Harry Potter had Tom._ So she stole Tom back, because letting Harry keep Tom was the worst idea ever. She didn’t care if Tom told about her crush - she was pretty sure Harry knew about it from the way he looked at her when that stupid dwarf had read her poem. No, Ginny was terrified that Tom might corrupt Harry like she had been corrupted. Harry might start losing time, or killing chickens, or something even worse. Ginny couldn’t let that happen, not to the Boy-Who-Lived!

So Ginny paced back and forth in one of the secret alcoves that Tom had showed her about, or maybe that he had just had her hide in while she blacked out. She wasn’t sure, it was all so blurry. But her feet hit the floor, quickly one after another, a steady rhythm reverberating in the small stone area. She muttered to herself and created a Plan of Action.

She would get Tom back. She’d do it on Ron’s birthday, when they were all out of the dorm celebrating. No one would notice she wasn’t around, and if she got caught she could pretend she was leaving a surprise present for Ron on his bed. Yes, it was a plan. A good plan. Tom would be proud, but that wasn’t a good thing, was it? Was it?

She looked up, and saw that she was no longer in the alcove, and a few third year Hufflepuffs were staring at her, tie undone, shoes unlaced, muttering to herself. She sneered at them, and they scurried away. She didn’t mean to sneer, it just happened as if on instinct, and oh God she couldn’t let Harry become like her, couldn’t let Tom get his hooks in Harry!

Her plan went off without a hitch. It was perfect, just like she had known it would be. No one even suspected her.

When she grabbed the diary, she was revolted with her too eager fingers as they reached for the comforting leather, the soft ruffle of pages. The sound of a scratching quill filled her ears as she gripped her diary.

She had run all the way to her room, tears streaming down her face, thankful her plan worked so well and no one was in the Common Room. She shut herself in her bed, curtains closed, and repeated her mantra. _Harry is safe now. It’s worth it. Harry is safe now. It’s worth it._

Tom had been glad to have her back, and it made her feel so good to be wanted and to be missed and to be important. Her cheeks flushed in shame as his words of praise and encouragement made her stomach flip and her smile blossom, because she knew it was wrong, and she knew he was using her. But for a short while she wasn’t losing any time or blacking out, Tom said he would stop and that he just wanted his friend back. He was lonely.

_Harry is safe now. It’s worth it. And really, it isn’t all that bad._

Ginny, as the youngest of seven and an only girl, knew desperately what it was like to be lonely.

_The boys were up in the air, playing pickup quidditch. Ginny saw them up there and stared at them with longing eyes. She was in the kitchen, helping peel potatoes. They laughed, and screamed, and flew together. Even Percy had deigned to take the day off from homework, to make the teams even. Bill and the Twins against Charlie, Percy, and Ron. Dad watched them from the ground, refereeing the game, pride on his face and in his smile. Mum hummed to herself, and every so often looked out the window to gaze fondly at her boys. Ginny sat, and peeled, and wished desperately that she was allowed to fly._

So she tricked herself, and lied to herself, and told herself again and again that maybe Tom wasn’t so bad, and she must have been jumping to conclusions before.

But then she woke up with blood covering her hands again, and accidentally _hissed_ when Melaney had tapped on her shoulder in class, and she instantly knew that Tom was a liar, and that she’d fallen for it.

That was when she started fighting Tom again. Fighting, struggling, trying to remember and to stay asleep late at night. But she just couldn’t win. She could never win. She wasn’t strong enough.

She was too young. She was just a little girl. She wasn’t ready yet. All the little things her Mum and every other adult had ever told her that she fervently disagreed with, they were all true.

When she started to fight Tom, he started getting mean. He would suck her into the diary and throw her into her own memories of not being good enough. Being scolded by her Mum when she had been caught trying to steal a broom for the first time.

Every single time one of her brothers wouldn’t play with her.

_“You’re too little!”_

_“This isn’t a game for girls!”_

_“Why would we want to play with you?!”_

_“I’m too busy to play right now, Ginevra, I have homework to do.”_

She had tried to fight all year, and she just hadn’t been good enough. Hadn’t been strong enough. Hadn’t been enough.

So that was how she had ended up in the Chamber, looking up into Tom’s eyes, as he stared down at her, still speaking and taunting her for being such a stupid little girl.

“Did you really think, you insipid twit, that you could fight me? That you could win? You wouldn’t have passed a single class if it weren’t for me. I can’t believe you’re what passes for a pureblood these days. You’re hardly even a witch!

“All the times I had to tell you how pretty you are, how smart you are, how special you are. You’re nothing but a vain, selfish little brat.

“I’m going to steal your body, you simple little fool. It is quite literally the only option available to me. You are lucky, aren’t you Ginevra, to be taken over by me.  Honestly, you should be thanking me. Just like Myrtle should be thanking me for ending her pitiful existence. You should be grateful you’ll at least be _useful_ in bringing me back to life.”

She wondered why she was still fighting. Nobody expected her to fight, let alone to win. Isn’t that what her family always said?

 _A Lady shouldn't do that_ , Mum always said.

 _When you’re older, I’ll teach you_ , Dad would assure her.

 _Don’t worry about it yet, but later I promise_ , Bill always lied.

 _Are you sure you can handle that_ , Charlie wondered.

 _That’s nothing to worry your head about_ , Percy pursed his lips.

 _You sure you can keep up_ , Fred and George asked together.

 _Just leave it alone!_ Ron always shouted.

Her family, who knew her best, knew she wasn’t enough.

But she’d done more than even they could have expected! She had even managed to make sure nobody but her had died. They were working on the potions to revive all the petrified people, and she had saved Harry Potter from Tom! So what if she was the only person to die? That didn’t seem so bad, not after everything she had done. Maybe she even deserved it, just a little.

As she looked up at Tom’s face, twisted in a sneer, she let her eyes fall closed, and the errant thought ‘I can’t believe I ever thought he was pretty’ flitted through her head. She was going to die, and maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing.

* * *

Ginny was cold

She could feel the hard, chilled stone beneath her body. It was the only sense of awareness she had. The rock was ice cold against her skin, bypassing her robes and her skin and reaching into her very soul. The still air of the Chamber settled over her, and its touch was a freezing chill. The cold seeped into her body, draining her of whatever energy she had left. The searing cold coursed through her limbs, into her blood, and into her very being.

She couldn’t see, couldn’t smell, couldn’t taste, couldn’t hear. The only thing she could do was feel, and she didn’t know if she would ever feel anything other than cold ever again.

She doubted she’d ever be warm again; of course, being resigned to dying meant that it wouldn’t be likely she’d ever have the chance to warm up. But the scary thing was that it was taking longer than she thought. She had honestly hoped her death would be quick - one last mercy for a scared little girl who didn’t deserve any. She wasn’t tired anymore, but that was only because there was no room left in her for anything other than _freezing_.

She wanted to shiver, to move in an attempt to heat her body up, but she couldn’t. Her body refused to respond.

She wondered, in her half alive, half dead state, if this was what it was like to be petrified. To be eternally cold, unable to move, thinking and feeling all the while, knowing you were trapped.

Ginny thought it a fitting punishment that she would experience what she had done to all those people before she finally died.

She could feel herself getting weaker. She was ready to just let it all go, to move on. Ginny wasn’t sure what was waiting for her, and was actually afraid of whatever faced her on the other side, but the thought “you deserve it” just wouldn't leave her alone.

She tried, one last time, to remember what it was like to be warm. She tried to imagine the sun shining down on her. She tried to imagine flying in the garden that one day her family had all gone out and she had finished her chores early. To imagine what it felt like to be wrapped up in blankets with a mug of hot chocolate with a giant fire on Christmas eve. Ginny willed her body to shiver, to move, for just one last happy memory.

All she felt was the icy stone beneath her and the glacial still air around her.

* * *

Ginny was dying.

Ginny hadn’t given any real thought to what it would be like to die before. It was something far away, that happened when you were old. Oh, sure, she had figured that she deserved this, but she hadn’t thought about what it would mean, or what it would be like.

She was convinced, before, that she had been lonely. So sure of herself that she knew, intimately, what it was like to feel alone. But she couldn’t have been more wrong. Down in the Chamber, with nothing to hold onto, she was losing herself inch by inch, every moment falling a little further away. No one was there for her. No one to save her. No one to care.

She didn’t know what she was going towards. What lay after, what lay beyond, what lay on the other side. Her fear warred with her apathy. The unknown of death’s crooning whisper warred against her inability to hold on any longer. The mysteries of the afterlife became less and less mysterious, and more and more appealing. She nearly found herself reaching out towards it.

That terrified her.

There was a weariness in her. Not in her body, she couldn’t feel that anymore, but in her very being. It wasn’t quite tired either; like someone was whispering softly in her ear _give up, let go_ and it was just such a persuasive voice. Maybe she was so delirious in this mostly dead state that she was hearing voices. Maybe her subconscious was trying to tell her the truth about which option she really felt she deserved between living and dying.

Maybe it was really Death itself, come to sweep her away with his wand, and his cloak, and his stone. She’d always hated that story when her Mum read it to her; she much preferred the Boy-Who-Lived stories.

She desperately wanted to give in, and she desperately wanted to never give up. She fought with herself, with her delusions, with Death’s freezing grip, until something pierced through her like a stake through a vampire.

“ _Harry Potter”_ hissed Tom’s silken voice, and suddenly she was very fervently struggling to survive. She had worked so hard! He shouldn’t have been able to find her. He was supposed to be SAFE! There was a basilisk down here, for Merlin’s sake!

But try as she might, she couldn’t come back. She felt herself slipping further away the harder she struggled, and eventually her whole body was consumed with a feral, instinctual, visceral desire to _not let go_.

* * *

With a burst of light her eyes opened, and her senses returned. Blearily, she turned her head to see a broken and battered Harry Potter, leaning over the diary. The diary had a bloody basilisk fang sticking out of it, and it was dripping ink, and there was a scar on Harry’s arm that looked too similar to the giant _fang_ and, and, and.

Ginny almost passed out again, experiencing too much input in too little time. She still couldn’t move, but she was able to let her head fall to the side, away from Harry and the diary. She stared at the wall, where a large stone snake coiled around a pillar. It had intricate scales, and jewels for eyes. Bright green emeralds, boring down into her. She lost herself in them, let herself come to terms with the fact that she was alive. Each breath she took strained all of her muscles, and it hurt to keep her eyes open, but the pain was a welcome one. It meant she could feel things other than the cold, other than the tired, other than the helpless, weightless feeling of _‘just let me die.’_

Harry was asking her if she was okay, asking her what happened, asking question after question after question. The words wouldn’t come to her, caught lower than her throat, in her stomach, a roiling guilty feeling that caused tears to fill her eyes. She choked back a sob and couldn’t even shake her head to tell him she couldn’t answer. She cried there, on the grimy stone floor, being judged by that snake with emerald eyes, and she hated herself for it. The snake found her wanting, and she couldn’t disagree.

She had lived, and she didn’t deserve it. Harry had saved her, and he shouldn’t have risked it. Ginny had dreamed of being saved by Harry ever since her Mum had read her story books at bedtime about him. How great and noble it would all be, to be saved by him and then they’d get married in a beautiful giant wedding at the Burrow, or maybe in a castle.

She hated it. Hated needing to be saved. Hated being the reason Harry had almost died, being the reason so many other students had almost died. Hated being so weak.

Hated herself most of all for choosing to just give up.

Harry was talking at her, unsure of how to handle her tears and her sobs. A giant phoenix came over, and Ginny gasped.

Warmth.

It got brighter and warmer, and for a split moment Ginny was undeniably warm again, and the creeping cold vanished in an instant. They arrived next to a large pile of rocks. And she saw Professor Lockhart smiling goofily at the ceiling. Ron had his wand trained on the Professor, eyeing him warily. And for a brief moment, Ginny thought maybe everything would be better.

* * *

There was another flash of red-yellow fire, and Ginny once again felt warm, and relaxed, and safe. The small cavern disappeared in that flash of red, and she appeared somewhere new with Ron, Harry, and the Professor.

They were in an office, with strange shaped silver objects everywhere, and Dumbledore sitting behind his desk.  The phoenix disappeared in a flash of bright light, and she could feel that it was _gone_. She could feel it in her bones, the unrelenting cold, seeping into her again. She was freezing, and she tried desperately to stop shivering.

She felt herself almost give in automatically, almost give up and let go, before she fiercely forced herself to repeat that _I do not want to die, I do not want to die_ and she was crying and gritting her teeth while she thought it, but she did, and she meant it.

“Well,” Dumbledore spoke, looking at them over his glasses, and gazing at her just a few moments longer than the others. “This is a surprise. Fawkes doesn’t usually bring visitors along. It looks like you all have something of a story to tell me. I look forward to hearing it. But first, I think your parents would be rather put out if I didn’t call them here first thing.” Ginny wasn’t sure she liked the way Dumbledore looked at her as he said that. She didn’t trust him, but he was _Dumbledore_ so of course she should trust him. It was a confusing jumble of thoughts, so instead Ginny focused all her attention on stopping her tears.

Her parents were called, and she was taken to the hospital wing in short order. Plain, calming colors surrounded her, a bed less comfortable than it should have been, and the room still felt cold. Impersonal. They kept asking questions, but every question prompted a memory, mostly of Tom and the hell she had been living that she just wanted to put behind her. Every question just caused a fresh set of tears.

When they eventually convinced her to calm down enough to tell her story, she had to stare at the phoenix the entire time she spoke. The phoenix’s mere presence was like a ray of sunshine filtering down on a cloudy day; it was warm, unexpected, and totally welcome. Sadly, it wasn’t nearly enough. Ginny craved that warmth, hoped desperately that the bird would set itself on fire so she could feel heat again, if only for a moment.

The phoenix had come down with Dumbledore, and it seemed to be staring at Harry’s unconscious form. A few stuttered sentences in and it flew to her shoulder to nuzzle her head, and the bird was so warm it felt like a bonfire resting on her shoulder. Everyone around her was quite shocked. She just sighed and leaned into it. Her story came easier then, and while it wasn’t okay, and she wasn’t okay, at least she got it all out.

“I… I found a diary. Tucked in with all my things. I figured it was a late, uh, birthday present. It was beautiful leather, soft pages. It was so nice to be able to write out all my thoughts.”

She shook her head as she felt herself fall into the memories of writing in the diary. They called to her, drew her in, wanted her to bask in the past. She wouldn’t let herself do it.

“The diary… it talked back to me. Or, uhm, wrote back to me, I guess. His name was Tom. I thought he was my friend.”

She looked up then, at her Dad, and tried to get him to understand.

“I remembered what you said! I did! I couldn’t see its brain, so I was going to hand it in! But, I was so _lonely_. And the hat spoke to me in my head, and I couldn’t see where it kept its brain! And the mirrors in the bathroom, they talked to me too! And I thought it was a gift from you and Mum, so I figured, well, it must have been alright!”

His face was taut and his eyes glistened, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She forced her eyes to the ground and brought a hand up to the bird still perched on her shoulder. Stroking his plumage gave her something to do while she tried to organize her thoughts.

“It wasn’t alright. Tom was… well, a lot of things. But most of all, a liar. He tricked me. Slowly started to make me doubt myself. And then he…” Her throat closed up and her hands clenched into fists around the bird’s soft feathers. It was only the soft trill of the phoenix that kept her sane. She screwed her eyes up tight, feeling something hot and wet run down her cheek, and said it all in one go.

“I opened the Chamber of Secrets. I controlled the basilisk. I hurt all those people. Tom wanted me to kill them, and I did!”

Her Mum let out a shriek, then ran to hug her and Ginny flinched back. She didn’t want anyone to touch her. She was dirty and had done terrible things. Even worse, she remembered distinctly the feeling of Tom stroking the back of her hair or giving her a hug to comfort her late at night before she had realized she was losing memories but after she had started blacking out. When he’d sucked her into the diary they’d been able to lightly interact, and it had been so wonderful. Now it was only a horrifying remembrance of a time when he’d had a firm hold on her and she hadn’t even realized it.

She could see tears in her Mum’s eyes and so Ginny forced herself to reach out and suffer through a hug, but she felt trapped, too close, help! She slowly pushed away from her Mum and tried to give a quick smile, but it must have come out wrong as it just made her Mum cry harder. She wanted to feel bad for making her Mum cry. She wanted to be willing and able to struggle through a hug or a smile. Instead Ginny just felt guilty at how relieved she was when her Mum backed away.

Madame Pomfrey began to fuss over her, and it was all Ginny could do to not lash out at her. She didn’t want to be poked and prodded. She didn’t want to be looked after. She just wanted the day, the year, to finally be _over._

She was given a clean bill of health and they headed towards the floo because ‘no my daughter is _not_ going home on the Hogwarts Express, she is coming home with me _now.’_

The last thing she thought as she stepped into the floo behind her Mum was _This is going to be a long summer._


	2. Floating

It was not until a week or two later, Ginny wasn’t sure exactly how long it’d been, that the rest of her family came home. She had to check the date on the wall calendar to see that it was June 8th. Her time since she’d been home had been mostly a blur, and if pressed she wasn’t sure she’d be able to describe any particular day as being different from the other.

It was at that point in time when her siblings finally came home that her Mum tried to take her wand. Her mum had done the same for all her boys, and continued to do so tucking them all away and out of sight for the summer. But as she reached for Ginny’s wand, the fear and anxiety mounted within her. For the first time since she came home, Ginny spoke.

“No. I need it. I won’t do any magic I promise, I just-. I can’t-. I’m not-.” She struggled to find the words to describe what she meant or how she felt.

She knew she wasn’t strong enough to defend herself from the world. She knew that it wouldn’t make a difference if she had her wand or not, but the delusion that with it she at least had a chance at safety was something she clung to. She found it impossible to explain how important it was that she hold onto her fantasy of self-protection. She stammered as she tried to find a way to express her thoughts that having a wand was better than not having it, even though she was useless regardless. The importance of her ‘maybe’ and her false sense of security were impossible for her to put into words. All she managed to do was stutter uselessly.

It may have been because those were the first words she had spoken since she had come home. It might have been the look on her face as she looked up at her Mum, begging for this like she’d never begged for anything else before in her entire life. It was possibly due to how cautious her Mum had been around Ginny ever since she’d come home, trying as hard as possible not to upset her. Her Mum was always being sure to announce herself when she entered a new room, and making Ginny’s favorite foods, and so many other little details since they’d been home. This might have just been one more way her Mum was trying to keep Ginny from breaking into pieces.

Ginny didn’t care much for the reason, only having room to worry about the response.

“Fine.” Was her Mum’s terse answer. “But you don’t do a lick of magic, not as single spell! Not even the thought of it! Understood?”

“I promise.” Ginny swore.

Ginny broke that promise in less than two days.

She’d been practicing since she came home. After she woke up her first night home screaming, plagued by dreams of emerald stones that looked like eyes which shifted into yellow slits that could turn a person into stone, tormented by the soft whisper of “ _I’ll be your friend, Ginny. I miss you already”_ breathed against the back of her neck, Ginny knew she needed a way to keep the situation under control. Her parents had burst into her room her first night back. They’d tried to hold her tight. They tried to scare away her nightmares with warm hugs and soft murmurs like they had when she was younger.

“It’s okay, Ginny, Mummy’s here now. Shh. Shhhhh.”

But their embrace just made it worse, and she felt smothered and trapped and unsafe. She felt like she was in the Chamber again. With no room to breathe, no room to think, no room to feel anything but terror and fear.

She lashed out, flailing, with a muffled “No!” She looked up and recoiled from the hurt look in her Mum’s eyes. More important than her Mum’s feelings, though, was feeling safe, and whole, and free.

They eventually learned to leave her be, to let her cry it out, but they sat there in her room watching her. Their eyes bored into her, making her feel judged and found wanting as her mind refused to settle back into slumber. She wasn’t good enough to overcome this, she wasn’t strong enough. She knew this for a fact; it was marked deeply on her soul.

So instead she focused on something she _was_ strong enough to do. The Silencing Charm was a fifth-year charm, but it was used as an example in her first-year magical theory book. Once she knew about it, it was easy enough to nick one of Percy’s old textbooks (which were really Charlie’s, which were really Bill’s, but weren’t yet Fred or George’s). So behind closed doors, for hours and hours at a time, she practiced it. She’d been practicing it since the first day she was home. Perhaps that was why her days all blurred together; they were largely spent monotonously casting the same spell over and over in the sanctuary of her room, away from prying eyes. Perhaps casting the spell was really the only thing she could remember, and everything else felt faded in comparison. She didn’t know for sure.

It was two days after she was allowed to keep her wand that she finally managed it.

She didn’t let herself think about the fact that it should have taken her longer than that, or the extra knowledge of magical theory she seemed to have at her fingertips that helped her understand her stolen and tattered hand me down books. She tried not to be discouraged by the fact that her Charm only covered her bed, when the example said she should be able to easily use it over whole rooms. Instead, she kept practicing, and was pleased when two evenings after she’d been granted permission to keep her wand the spell seemed to finally work.

Even though it was what she’d been practicing for, hoping for, she was still torn up with guilt at the fact that she’d officially broken her Mum’s trust. While her spell had been failing or fizzling out, she could delude herself into believing she hadn’t gone back on her promise. But that night, she’d officially cast “a single spell” and done more than just “a lick of magic.”

She had a mix of emotions when she woke up screaming in the dead of night from the sight of a wound in Harry’s arm, the look on Colin’s face as the camera flashed, and that seeping feeling of _cold,_ no one came rushing to her room. Her Charm had definitely worked, and she felt a giddy elation at her success. Then, because she couldn’t get back to sleep and needed something to do, she kept practicing her Silencing Charm, trying to make it cover more area and last longer, all the while her conscience ate at her, decried her as the liar and terrible daughter that she was.

But when that next morning there was a full breakfast out on the table, and her Mum beamed at her bright and wide, any lingering guilt about breaking her promise evaporated. She’d lie as much or as often as she had to if it made her Mum that happy.

* * *

Ginny found the solution to her inability to get a good night's rest by accident, a week after she completed her Silencing Charm. It started with a long morning degnoming the garden. Then the chickens needed to be fed, and the coop needed a repair, and before she knew it, the sky was darkening. Ginny had worked from nearly sun up to sun down doing hard, tiring work. Her body exhausted, she fell into her bed that night after dinner, flicked out a quick Silencing Charm, and fell straight to sleep. When she woke up, it was with more sleep than she had had in weeks, and she hadn’t even screamed all that loudly! She could feel the pressure beating against her Charm, and it was so much less than normal.

That’s not to say it wasn’t still dark out when she woke. She still laid in bed, flicking her wand as she practiced the Silencing Charm to keep herself occupied until dawn. She just didn’t have to wait nearly as long for the dawn to break.

That started her new routine of being extremely helpful around the house. Her Mum would occasionally give her strange looks, as though she couldn’t believe her eyes. Ginny didn’t care. She was able to sleep through most of the night, and she always had a pleasantly sore feeling right before she went to bed. She worked so hard that on one occasion she forgot to set up her Silencing Charm before falling asleep, and it didn’t even make a difference. Her screams were more deep gasping breaths, and they were so mild and muffled that not a single person stirred in their sleep.

Gardening, taking care of the chickens, degnoming the garden, more gardening (because apparently magical gardens grow back incredibly fast!), picking apples, trimming the orchard, repainting the shed, cleaning the Burrow, helping do a deep clean of the kitchen after an especially messy lunch with far too much grease, and just a touch more gardening. Anything to strain her body, mindless tasks that she could accomplish while she turned off her brain and work her muscles so hard she didn’t have the time think, let alone to feel afraid.

She burrowed into her covers still, but not quite as deeply. She didn’t hide underneath her bed on those nights when going back to sleep just to fall into another nightmare was too terrifying to contemplate, like she did her first week home.

She was nearly cured, she told herself.

Nearly.

Sometimes something would just set her off, though. The squeal of a hinge as a door opened that sounded a little too much like a hiss. A hand on the shoulder, or a hug that felt a little too much like the phantom contact Tom used to give her. And she had a tendency to react more violently than she used to when she was surprised.

George and Fred had been trying to help. They’d thought she was working too hard, that it wasn’t good for her recovery. It had been 5 days straight that she had worked sun up to sun down. She had overheard them the night before, talking to each other quietly under the moonlight.  
  
“Laughter is the best medicine” said one twin.

“That much work isn’t good for anybody, ‘specially not one in her condition” returned the other, giving his reasoning.

Even still, she thought nothing of it. Didn’t expect them to act on their worries. So, when the bucket of cold water dropped on her head the next day, she panicked.

Her body stilled, but her mind was worse than still - it froze. She hadn’t been this cold since the Chamber. A shock went through her system as she was suddenly freezing.

She distantly heard Fred laugh as George said, “You’ve been outside working so long, and you looked so hot out there, we thought we’d help you cool off!”

But the only thing she could focus on was how cold she was. It seeped through her clothes, into her body, she didn’t know if she’d ever feel warm again, and she _didn’t want to die, she didn’t, she wouldn’t_. _She wouldn’t give up, not again!_

Then she was on top of George, wailing into him with her fists, her muscles sore and protesting over the last five days of hard work, his smile looking too close to a snarl or a sneer for her fragile mind. She wasn’t angry, she wasn’t incensed. She was lashing out the only way she knew how, she was fighting against the cold that stuck to her bones through her clothes at the only target available to her, the only source of her fear she could find. She wasn’t that little girl in the Chamber anymore, she wouldn’t lay down to die, she would _fight!_  
  
She didn’t hit hard enough to do any real damage, she was still much smaller than George, but by the time Fred had pulled her off, screaming all the while “Mum! Mum, help, it’s Ginny!” George had a bloody nose and a slightly reddened eye. It was easy to tell it’d turn into something of a nasty shiner in only a few hours.

Ginny was crying, and shaking, and rubbing her hands on her arms, wishing she could warm up.

“I don’t want to be cold. I don’t want to die. I don’t. I don’t.”

Then suddenly she was warm, and she looked up as her tears suddenly stopped falling. She rubbed the wetness from her face and was shocked to find it dry. She saw her Mum standing there, moving her wand away from being pointed at Ginny and pointing it instead at George. A distant, analytical part of her mind whispered to her _Warming Charm, Drying Charm, not dangerous._ Ginny saw George’s face then, and what she did to it, really saw it and realized that she had just _hit George,_ sweet, kind, funny George.

The tears came again after that, but her mantra changed.  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I love you, I swear, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” She babbled whatever apologies she could muster, whatever came to mind, as she hesitated near him. The urge to hug him to apologize warred with the terrifying possibility that he might reject her or flinch away.

The fear that he wouldn’t forgive her was gripping her, the dreadful surety that her family would finally realize she was broken, damaged, not worth it. The idea that Fred would smile at her like Tom had in her dreams or say all the things Tom had said to her in the Chamber. Instead, she was the one to flinch as he wrapped her up in a hug and said “It’s okay. I know. I forgive you.”

Before she knew it, she was swaddled up in a blanket, with a cup of hot chocolate, and sat in front of a fireplace. Even though it was summer, she basked in the heat. She was glad the twins had forgiven her. She was relieved she hadn’t seriously hurt anybody.

Deep down, though, Ginny was scared. Scared of herself, mostly. She hadn’t been in control of her own body. The hard labor she was doing was helping with that feeling of control, making her feel stronger and more coordinated. But she wasn’t in control of her own mind either, and that terrified her even more. She needed to get control of that too. The incident with Fred and George wasn’t the first time she’d felt out of control, only the most recent and most violent.

There was a moment in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner, when Ron was lazing about instead of helping. He was his usual obnoxious self and making comments to her about what a poor job she was doing cleaning up, while he sat on his fat arse and did nothing.

“How are you not done, yet, Gin? I want to head outside and fly before it gets dark, but Mum said I can’t unless dinner is cleaned up.”

Like a gentle breeze, her fingers skimmed her wand and twitched to twirl its tip in an elegant design. The words ghosted on her lips; _Oculis Cruentas._ She bit her lip to keep the words from spilling out, her restraint failing slowly like cracks in a dam. She could feel herself about to burst.

“Do it yourself, then.” She hissed as she scurried to her room, afraid of what she’d do if she stayed any longer.

She couldn’t say if that was better or worse than the time Percy got in her way while gardening, laying outside to “get some sun” while he studied. Three times, _three!_ she found him blocking the tools she needed, or the path to the shed, or just otherwise being _in her way_. The garden trowel felt heavy in her hand, and she had to grit her teeth and strain her muscles as she stilled her body. Images of her trowel swinging towards his chest, his neck, and moving his body out of her path for good flooded her mind.

“Percy,” she ground out. “If you aren't going to help, then get out of the bloody way.” He sniffed at her, and she threw her trowel into the earth as hard as she could as he walked away. It took her a moment and a bit of effort to pull it back up from the ground.

The most terrifying thought, though, that she would only even admit in the dead of night, was that there was more out of her control than her body or her mind. At night, when she was bone weary and dead tired, her Silencing Charm cast more as habit than out of any conscious thought, she tried very hard not to notice if it was any stronger, lasted any longer, or covered more area than when she cast it deliberately. There were a lot of things she was trying very hard not to notice.

The thing she tried the hardest to ignore, the thing she refused to think about more than anything else was the fact that for the rest of the summer, the twins didn’t prank her once. Ginny ignored the looks George shot her when he thought she wasn’t looking. They weren’t fearful, thank Merlin. But they were wary. Cautious.

Ginny had to ignore it all, or the fear would overtake her.

* * *

It was two days after the _bucket incident_ , as her Mum has taken to calling it, when their Dad came home one day with a giant smile on his face.

“Hidey Ho, Weasleys! We’ve won the lottery!” His announcement was as big as his smile.

“Woah, really?!” Fred and George said together, as they gave each other a high five.

“Blimey, how much did’jya win, Dad?” Ron asked, tactless as ever.

Ginny just smiled, which she was getting better at doing. It was making her Mum flinch less than it used to, and Ron, Percy, and the twins didn’t even notice anymore. She couldn’t tell if her Dad did or didn’t notice. He was harder to read than her Mum.

“Don’t you worry about that, boys. But I know you were all quite upset about missing out on visiting Bill in Egypt over Christmas. Well I just got off the floo with him, and he said we’d be welcome to come visit this summer.”

He held off for a moment, letting the pressure build up in the room as the children all waited for the surprise he was holding out on, clear as day on his face.

“For an entire month!” He nearly shouted.

Fred and George pretended to feint, Ron ran to his room to start packing immediately, but Ginny and Percy stayed put. Ginny because she wasn’t sure she knew how to feel. Egypt sounded great, but she’d miss the chickens, and her gardens, and the orchard, and her _ability to sleep through most of the night_ which she’d only just got back.

But Percy said “Father, is that really the best -.”

“Percy.” Her Mother hissed. “Come help me in the kitchen a moment, would you love?”

He looked momentarily confused, but one does not disobey Mum’s request to help in the kitchen. To do so is unthinkable.

Ginny was left alone in the living room with her Dad, and Ginny wasn’t certain of what to say. There’d been a gulf between them, uncrossable and insurmountable. He was never home while she was working in the yard, and then they’d have dinner which was always loud and crazy and no place for quiet conversation, and then she’d head straight to sleep. He would be home on some weekends, but he’d gotten in so much trouble over the whole ‘magical car’ incident that he was _still_ pulling weekend shifts, even as a department head. And besides, she spent her weekends working just like always, out under the hot sun.

“Are you excited, firefly?” He used his old pet name for her, from the time she had pronounced that she would grow up to be a firefly animagus. She both hated it and loved it at the same time, for too many reasons to count.

She was an odd blend of being nervous, while also simultaneously being ecstatic about going to Egypt. Even more so, she was confused about how much she wanted to see Bill, and yet how desperately she didn't want him to see her.

She decided to simply settle for a murmured “Of course” with the most genuine smile she could muster. She wasn’t sure if he found it comforting or concerning.

* * *

Egypt was wonderful. 

She had overhead her parents discussing the trip, late at night after she was supposed to have been sleeping. She couldn’t hear everything, only snippets of the conversation, but it was enough.

“Are you sure this...”

“She needs a change of...”

“But she seems … and we really shouldn’t...”

“I know, Mollywobbles, but Dumble-.”

“We were planning on...”

“But is she … needs it _now,_ not in another month ...”

“Well, I suppose Bill might have some…”

It was pretty clear that this trip was for her. Her parents had often joked that Bill was like a third parent for her whenever he was home for the holidays, and she honestly agreed. He was old enough that he was often tasked with being in charge of her when she’d been very little, and they’d developed a close relationship, more intimate than she had with her other brothers. Her parents seemed to hope he could draw something out of her that, so far, no one else had been able to find.

As she listened in, she realized it seemed likely they were going earlier than planned, and probably for a lot longer. The knowledge that it was almost certainly due to her outburst from Fred and George’s prank tried to gnaw at her conscience. She wanted to feel guilty about the need to spend all their newfound money on a frivolous trip just for her. She wanted to be concerned that they may have taken charity, basically a curse word in the Weasley household, for her sake.

Worse than all that, she was concerned about leaving the safety of the Burrow. The Burrow was solid, it was real, it was grounding. There were chores to do, and she could tire herself out, and keep her family safe from her impulses…  mostly.

The build up to their travelling slowly ate away at her nerves, and she got more and more jumpy as the date crept closer. She was thankful that portkeys were instant, because if she’d had a trip that lasted longer than the floo to the Ministry and the short walk to the International Travel department, she may have actually exploded from nerves.

She did feel all of those things, that confusing maelstrom of emotions, up until she got to Egypt. Then she just didn’t _care._ Egypt was special. The powerful sun beating down on her back, sweat pouring off her body as they wandered around the city of Cairo, it all felt so right.

Expeditions to different long-lost tombs were some of her favorite times. Bill was strict with them all, so much so he had even managed to cow their Mum into submission. Listen to every word out of his mouth. Don’t move unless instructed to. Only do exactly as he says. It was easy and calming, for those few simple moments, not to be in charge of her own actions. It felt reminiscent of her time with Tom, when she wasn’t in control, except now the person in control was someone she trusted implicitly. She wouldn’t accidentally touch any cursed objects. She wouldn’t unleash any basilisks or dangerous monsters through her own stupidity and childishness. Bill was in charge, and she trusted him.

After a particularly harrowing day, Fred and George had been banned from going on any more excursions until Bill was confident they were sufficiently sorry for attempting to shut Percy in a pyramid. Percy didn’t go with them to any pyramids or tombs after that - although he did spend a lot of time at the museums. He seemed fascinated with the ancient system of papyrus organizational spells in the magical section of the museum.

So, for two whole days it was just Ron and Ginny in the pyramids with Mum and Bill, while Percy, Fred, and George explored the museums with Dad. Even though they were exploring the tombs that had already been cleared out, it was still dangerous, and her nerves were on high alert. The sun bearing down on her combined with the cold sweat on her brow from the stress of navigating the dangerous areas they were exploring. The cool air of the excavated tombs juxtaposed with the burning in her legs from walking so far she was convinced they’d fall off. It all proved to be just as effective at wearing her out enough that she could mostly sleep through the night. She was so tired, it was like a long day at the Burrow, and her waking screams became smothered whimpers as she woke from her nightmares.

So, Egypt was wonderful.

But it was their first two days which were the most special to her. More than the time she spent alone with Bill, where he tried to teach her the Bat-Bogey Hex, but she instead asked about a basic detection spell, and he tapped his nose as he said ‘Don’t tell Mum. Our little secret.’ More than the time with Percy where they got separated from everyone in a museum and they shared a mischievous smile as they very specifically did not stay put like they were supposed to in order to be found but went on their own adventure to see how the Ancient Egyptians used to brew potions.

She laughed so hard she couldn’t breathe at the glint in his eye as he read over the exhibit about the Cauldron Wars, and their effect on cauldron bottom thickness regulations in the modern day.

But that first day they arrived, the moment their portkey appeared under the sun, Ginny felt _warm_. She felt heat course through her in a way she hadn’t experienced since she’d left the phoenix behind at Hogwarts.  

Bill had been excited to see them. He had been even more excited that they had arrived in time for the Solstice. They’d have to get up early the next morning for the heliacal rising of Sirius, he told them, but it would be worth it.

Fred, George, and Ron hadn’t cared very much. Percy and her Mum had had looks of distaste on their face when Bill had mentioned the ritual. Her Dad had a general curiosity, without much judgement; he wasn’t overly interested though.

Ginny was sure they could all see how excited she was. She felt suffused with sunlight, almost a scorching heat filling up her entire body. It was nearly uncomfortable, but it was so opposite the cold that she only just then realized hadn’t ever left her completely that she couldn’t help but bask in it.

They could see bits and pieces of the wizarding world’s celebration as they walked from their portkey point through the muggle world to their hotel. Ginny basked in the sun, its oppressive rays beating down on her, relishing the drip of each sweat droplet running down her back.

It wasn’t just that it was hot out, it was the upcoming Solstice itself that she felt connected to. The hottest day of the year, the _longest_ day of the year where the sun was strongest, was just a single day away. It was as though the magic had been building for weeks and weeks, and it suffused the very air. It banished the shadows that lurked in the corner of her vision and it burned out the ice in her soul.

The shadows would be back eventually, she had no doubt, and the ice would cling to her again soon enough, but for the moment she was free of it. It was _glorious_.

It was a lazy afternoon after they’d checked into the hotel, trailing through the city. When they popped into the wizarding district there were preparations for a huge celebration. Markets were open, and the people were selling food and trinkets and anything else you could think of. Dizzying and twinkling decorations were being spelled into place. With each breath she could nearly taste the delicacies being prepared, and the whole city bombarded her with a conflux scents; the people, the sweat, the spices. Ginny’s smile never wavered as they meandered through the streets.

That next morning, before sun up, Bill had them all grab onto the portkey to Dendera. It was one of many places a summer Solstice ritual was being held. It was also the most well-known by locals and easily considered the most world famous.

“I did a friend a favor, and he cleared us to watch the ritual happening in this space. It’s an incredible honor.” Bill grinned at them all. Then he gave them all a stern look, lingering just a while longer on their Mother and Percy. “Please, don’t embarrass me.”

In true Weasley fashion, they arrived just in time and took their places to watch the sacred rites.

Pristine white robes adorned the masked wizards and witches. There were six in total, moving concurrently in a haunting silence. They circled the space, swirling around each other as though following the music to a perfectly choreographed dance.

Two falcon masks. One blue, and red, and white, looked sharply wherever it turned. A Wedjat for each eye, and a lock of hair styled perfectly down the right side of the ritualists head. The other red, yellow, and gold, with eyes just as sharp, but fiercer and more piercing. Its plumage seemed more regal somehow, just from the colors. Nearly identical in shape, the two masks looked lifelike, as though the feathers would ruffle at any moment from just the slightest twitch.

A canine mask, set in a regal scowl, pitch black in color. The mask so finely carved, the fur looked soft to the touch, the fangs sharp enough to pierce skin.

A long beaked bird, lean and needle thin. An ibis. Deep blue and startling green, with sharp unrelenting eyes. Too knowing, too lifelike, too human.

The last two masks depicted stunningly beautiful women, vivid in their detail and yet otherworldly in their perfection. Almost identical in design, the only difference between them their eye color and the tears streaming down the cheeks of one mask. Both ritualists had the image of the flight path of a kite tattooed prominently up their arms.

The six flowed together as they fell to the floor as though to a silent signal. They began inscribing sigils and symbols filled with meaning and power into the temple floor. This process was slow and laborious, and the magic in the room increased all the while to palpable levels. The hair on her arms raised and goosebumps covered her flesh as Ginny felt the air become suffused with emotion and energy. A feeling of deep mourning and gravitas fell over the occupants, and Ginny felt tears sting her eyes as she watched this beautiful magical dance.

The six participants took up their places around the magical runes etched on the floor. They brought out bread, which they consumed one by one. They brought out beer, which they all took a single sip from. They brought out a live ram, which was sat in the center of their circle.

One lone voice began to chant, and the ram swayed as though under enchantment. As the cadence of the voice rose and fell, so too did the eyelids of the ram, until eventually it fell into a deep slumber.

As a second voice joined the first, Ginny realized with surprise that she couldn’t understand the words they spoke. As the first voice faded out, and again a lone voice intoned foreign words, she recognized that she’d been able to discern their meaning through the emotions that settled in her chest.

Deprivation. Despair. Desperation. Desire.

The emotions welled in Ginny as one by one the ritualists chanted their piece, each overlapping at the rise and fall of their own incantation. The ram did not stir within into its slumber, dead to the world around it, breathing in time to the cadence of the chant. Each transition between speaker was so smooth it was as if for a brief moment one voice was made of many, and it never disturbed the ram.

The words and chant surrounded Ginny, filling her head to the brim, until all she knew was the sound of their voices. She could feel them for the sentiment they carried, more clearly than she ever could have expected.

The magic in the room was nearly stifling, when suddenly the last person finished chanting. The world held its breath, and Ginny did too, until finally she saw the star Sirius crest over the horizon through an arch window, and all six participants, three pairs of men and women, began speaking in unison, in earnest.

The ram awoke with their crescendo and let out a long, painful cry in tune with the chanting of the wizard-priests.

Ginny’s world exploded in a warm, comforting, embrace. Ginny, for the first time in a long time, didn’t shy away from the emotion, the phantom sensation of being held. It wasn’t stifling, it wasn’t at all like feeling trapped. It was the warmth of her Mum’s hug from before Hogwarts or Tom. It was the soft sigh that left her lips before falling asleep on her Dad while they relaxed on the couch in the evening during that year it had been just her, Mum, and Dad at the Burrow.  
  
It was all those things, and more. She luxuriated in it. Most perfectly described, it was the feeling she had when she had earnestly decided she wanted to live. The feeling of being so close to the edge, so afraid and alone, and choosing to carry on anyways, choosing to struggle for something more important than herself.

The longer she held onto it, the less comfortable it became. It became almost too hot, too searing, but Ginny held tight to the feeling, committing it to memory. Rather scorching than freezing, rather sweating than shivering, rather too hot than too cold.

The Sun followed Sirius when it too crested over the horizon, and at the same time the final echo of the chant tapered off, silence engulfing the temple halls. Ginny had lost track of time. Had it been seconds or hours? She had no clue and didn’t rightly care. The ritual came to a close. The light, airy feeling of warmth would stay with her for at least the rest of the day, she knew that for a fact.

Shortly after they left, and had returned to Cairo, her Mother had huffed to no one in particular, possibly to herself, about the ‘deplorable, outdated practices.’

“Honestly,” she had said “who even worships gods and goddesses anymore?! We all know it’s just poppycock that the muggles and witches who didn’t know any better made up to explain magic.”

“Don’t.” Ginny’s voice was thin as a whip, and just as vicious. “That was beautiful. It wasn’t about gods, or goddesses, or muggles. You shouldn’t look down on it. It was about mourning. And loss. And rebirth, and growth, and magic. It was about the husband, and the wife. Protection, and desperation, and magic, and love. So much love. Those who were wronged shall seek vengeance, and struggle to find their loved ones anew. The coming of the Sun, a source of life and of unbending fury both, Sirius rises with it after a long time in hiding. The tears of mourning will nourish the land, and in the unyielding light the land will flourish.”

Her whole family was staring at her, wide eyed, as she struggled to put words to mere feelings and nebulous thoughts. Bill stepped in for her. He explained about the 70 days of fasting and mourning, the importance of the star Sirius, the ways wizards and witches used religion as a way to both connect with magic in the past, and as a method of helping muggles understand some of the more esoteric concepts by putting it in the form of stories from before the Statute of Secrecy. On and on he droned, and Ginny soaked it all up, all the details she couldn’t verbalize or didn’t know.

Their Mum grudgingly admitted that maybe there was more to it than she knew, and they all forgot the minor argument as they lost themselves in their enjoyment of the massive celebrations throughout the entire day to celebrate the Solstice. As the celebrations took hold, the tension that had plagued the Weasley’s at the Burrow faded into nonexistence.

No one ever commented on the fact that Ginny knew more about that ritual than she should have. They didn’t cover Sirius in Astronomy in depth until third year. Certainly, no classes in first year covered ‘Ancient Egyptian Fertility and Nature Rituals.’


	3. Flitting

Ginny had gotten complacent. She had forgotten how bad the nightmares could be. A few days of hard labor, then being up at dawn every morning in Egypt before exploring the beautiful country every day for a month had weakened her resolve and the lessons she had learned after coming home from the Chamber.

She’d gotten in the habit of forgoing her Silencing Charm in Egypt so her Mum wouldn’t catch her casting magic underage. Since her return from Hogwarts she had gotten good at stifling her screams into whimpers when she woke from her nightmares. Combined with the bone weariness of walking and exploring a foreign country which let her sleep a few hours longer before she inevitable woke from a nightmare, she could safely forgo the Charm while in Egypt without risking waking anyone else up. When she got home, that first night back, she hadn’t remembered to cast the spell over her bed.

Their morning had been so hectic, with the last-minute packing, and the scurrying about. Then they had been attacked by that reporter while in the Ministry. She had wanted a picture of the Lottery winners all done up in their Egyptian Garb, and Scabbers had almost escaped which set Ron to whinging the whole day. It had been such a frantic morning, filled with long periods of waiting and lounging, followed by short bursts of craziness, that even if Ginny had thought about it, she honestly wouldn’t have thought she’d need to cast the Charm. She had spent her afternoon and evening just lounging and luxuriating in the feeling of being home.

_The slither of scales on stone. The hiss from its mouth and hers. The struggle to see through her own eyes, to hear with her own ears. Thinking was like wading through a pool of water, with no land in sight. The sharp hiss and flicker of tongue that meant prey was near. A flash of frizzy hair, a short shout of surprise, then a ghost and a student lay petrified. Thwarted and starving, the beast raged and turned to her, its bright yellow eyes bringing her to her death. She couldn’t control her body, couldn’t turn away, needed turn away, she was going to die, she did not want to die, she_ did not want TO DIE!

The piercing shriek that rang through the Burrow sent her parents flying to her room.

The next day, Ginny set herself back to her old routine with a fervor. Out of bed with the dawn, back breaking labor throughout the day, down after dinner. She found any excuse she could to be out in the sun, allowing it to bear down on her, to warm her up as she sweat from exhaustion. Gardening, degnoming, weeding, home repairs. Any task her Mum set, she jumped to with enthusiasm.

After that first day, she dutifully remembered to cast her Silencing Charm before bed. She never forgot it again.

The nightmares and dreams never went away, not really. They just got fuzzier and more indistinct, and she was able to sleep for longer before it got so bad she’d wake up sweating and terrified. Sometimes, she was even able to go back to sleep a few hours after she’d woken up, grabbing an extra half hour or so before she woke for the day. Even though she returned to the realm of gasping breaths and waking whimpers rather than blood curdling screams, she still always cast the Silencing Charm

As the tasks around her house dried up to more maintenance and less intensive work, Ginny tried everything she could to keep herself occupied. She went so far as to offer to help her Mum with the cooking, which elicited a delighted squeal. Talk of “I knew you’d come ‘round” and “I’m so happy to have the extra hands” flew around the kitchen as Ginny set about peeling and chopping and dicing.

Sadly, it wasn’t enough.

Ginny went to sleep that night not nearly as tired as normal, and her nightmares returned with a vengeance and fury. Her terrified screams beat against her Silenced bed. Luckily, her skill with the Silencing Charm was now so great that not even a blasting erumpet’s horn could break it. Her nightmares, while vivid and terrifying, couldn’t make her scream louder than her vocal cords allowed.

The next day during breakfast, her Mum asked if she’d be helping with the cooking again, and Ginny brushed her off. She said she ‘wasn’t sure, and who knows what today would bring?’

If Ginny hadn’t spent so much time in Egypt so soon, she might not have remembered what it felt like to smile and mean it. She might have had trouble mimicking it in the moment, might not have had the ability to pretend that everything was okay. But they _had_ spent a month in Egypt, so instead of feeling forced or unnatural, her smile was light and easy as she headed out to complete ‘her chores,’ the ones that she regularly took care of, and the ones she started doing for Ron and the twins because it was something extra to do.

It was in the moment she felt her muscles straining as she chucked a gnome out of her garden as far as it could go. It was in the whole journey of climbing a tree to grab the apples from the very top, feeling muscles strain with each pull or push to higher branches. It was in the ache in her legs as she chased the chickens around the coup, trying to force them to eat and then back into their pens.

She couldn’t help with the cooking. It just wasn’t _enough._

To her Mum’s dismay, that afternoon she went looking throughout Ottery St. Catchpole for chores to do and errands to run. It was during one of her trips around Ottery St. Catchpole that she caught sight of her childhood friend, Luna Lovegood. Ginny found her squatting near the River early one morning, staring intently at a swirling eddy in the current, as the water flowed around a rock jutting outward.

“Luna?”

“Oh. Hello, Ginny. How are you this afternoon?”

Ginny paused for a moment, as Luna hadn’t taken her eyes off of the water, hadn’t even turned to look in Ginny’s direction.

“I’m well, thanks. Luna, what are you up to? You’re not thinking about going for a swim are you? The water is dangerous.” At that point, Luna looked at her.

She then continued to look. She tilted her head slightly and squinted. Ginny tried for a smile, in a friendly sort of way, hoping her once best friend, who she really didn’t even know anymore, wasn’t contemplating a swim - or something worse. Ginny may not have talked to Luna in a couple of years, but she remembered well how devastated Luna was when her Mum passed away, and the people in town always talked about how crazy the Lovegoods were; who knew why they ever did anything?

Luna frowned.

“No, I think not. It’s been a very long time since I’ve thought about going for a swim. I don’t much like it these days; even in the summer, the water is too cold. I was just looking for a Gulping Plimpy. I think there’s more support for them to live in still water, like ponds or lakes, but Daddy thinks running water like rivers might be best.” She pursed her lips and continued. “You wouldn’t want to go for a swim, would you, Ginny?”

Ginny’s eyebrows shot up as she said, truthfully “No. I don’t really want to go swimming, I s’pose. Hadn’t really thought to. Not even got a swimsuit on. And honestly, I wouldn’t go swimming in the River, that’s for certain. Too dangerous.” She realized she had started to babble, so instead finished off with another quick warning. She really didn’t think she’d be able to jump in and save her if Luna decided the best place to look for a Gasping Whatever-it-Is was at the bottom of the river.

Luna smiled at her then, bright and earnest, and said “That’s good. I wouldn’t want you to go swimming in the river. It’s all well and good for Plimpies, Gulping or otherwise, but I don’t think it’s for you.”

And just like that it was as though the two, nearly three, years since they’d last talked or hung out never happened. They wandered through the nearby fields, running and joking and chatting.

Luna, with her too large skirt held up with a too large belt that needed to be wrapped around three times to fit her waist. A long, flowing shirt and her earrings made of the same small purple flower that adorned her head in a crown. Ginny in simple pants and a shirt, clothes she wouldn’t mind getting dirty or ruined while doing chores.

Ginny spent an hour or three with Luna, and wanted to spend more. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t the same. Ginny and Luna had both seen things that made the silences heavier than they used to be. There was an understanding between them that as nice as it was, everything was different now. They’d both grown up and seen some of the worst things the world had to offer. They’d both made it out the other side of something traumatic, and they were each nearly whole and intact.

But for the most part, everything was fun. They took solace in each other, in the normalcy their friendship allowed them to pretend.

As fun as it was to catch up and be with her best friend again, though, Ginny felt the day draw on and wanted to be able to sleep that night. So she gave Luna her goodbye, and invited her to dinner later that evening before heading out for more chores. She worked extra hard at Mrs. Diggory’s garden to make up for lost time.

Her Mum was shocked to see an extra head at the dinner table, especially one without red hair. But it should never be said that Molly Weasley turned away a mouth to feed, and she dutifully plated up some veggies and roast for Luna, who smiled and thanked her profusely.

Luna and Ginny nattered on to each other throughout dinner. Ginny couldn’t help the upturn at the corner of her lips as Luna regaled them all with stories from the Quibbler, and stories that almost made the cut, but hadn’t quite. Snorcacks, Humdingers, and Conspiracies galore; through it all Luna and Ginny laughed while the rest of the family had their own conversations or looked at them queerly.

Ginny didn’t care.

Percy had a look of confusion on his face, a slightly pinched look. Fred and George were staring at them like a broom crash in a quidditch match - terrifying, but impossible to look away. Ron tried once or twice to get involved, but just couldn’t seem to keep up. Instead he mostly focused on his food and avoiding whatever the twins were attempting.

Ginny’s Mum and Dad would look at them out the corner of their eyes. Her Dad would let out nervous chuckles whenever Luna gestured wildly with her fork, pieces of food still stuck on it. Her Mum just narrowed her eyes and scrunched up her nose taking the whole thing in.

For the first time all summer, Ginny didn’t go straight to bed after dinner. Luna dragged her to the apple orchard, and they climbed up high in the trees to look out at the starry sky. Twinkling bits of the heavens smiled down at them. Not judging, not mocking, just staring.

“I’m glad I ran into you today, Luna” Ginny eventually murmured.

“Me too. I’ve missed having a friend.” Luna said this so quietly Ginny almost missed it.

“Me too.” Ginny whispered back, just as softly.

Ginny heard a rustling as Luna either re-situated herself, or turned to look at Ginny. Ginny didn’t turn her head to see which it was. Nothing was said for a long time.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Luna’s voice broke the silence that had stretched between them. “How Hogwarts isn’t all it’s cracked up to be? For years and years it’s all we dreamed of, and then we get there, and it’s not so different or special after all. Everyone tells us it’s supposed to be the best time of our lives. Our parents, our neighbors, our friends. It’s not, though. Not so far, anyways.”   
  
And suddenly Ginny wanted to confess. The deepest parts of her, the parts she shied away from, the parts that haunted her in her nightmares. The cold, cruel part of her that was more concerned with how she almost died than she was about the fact that she almost killed so many people. The fear that she wasn’t really so different from Tom, that there was a reason why it was so easy for him to sweet talk her and convince her and possess her.

Ginny knew that Luna saw through her fake smiles. Ginny didn’t doubt that Luna had felt the cold fear and dread that clung to her soul like icicles to a roof, ready to drop and spear any unsuspecting happiness that tried to enter.

But one wonderful day would not make up for years of lost time, and though Luna was the best friend she’d ever had, they weren’t so close anymore. Instead, Ginny just hummed in agreement and said:

“Not the only thing we dreamed about. I remember you made a pretty convincing Harry Potter when we had all those fake weddings. How many times did we get married?”  
  
Luna let out a startled bark of laughter, followed by unrelenting giggles. They both let the humor overtake them, until they settled back down into a comfortable silence.

They sat like that, high up in the apple trees, with the stars twinkling down on them, the bark scratching their backs, the scent of fresh leaves and sweet apples filling their noses. They didn't do anything for another long while. Ginny was just happy to have someone who was willing to sit with her and not ask her questions about Tom. To not look at her like she was a dangerous or wild animal, or like she was a china doll that might break any moment.

“Do you still play quidditch?”

“No!” Ginny barked out harshly. “Haven’t even touched a broom all summer. Forgot I used to tell you about sneaking the broom late at night. That was silly. I could have hurt myself.”

“Mmmm, maybe. But what’s life without a little risk? You should try it again.” A deep breath. A pause. “My Mum used to say that just because we lost _some_ thing, it doesn’t mean we should lose _every_ thing.”

Ginny very specifically did not mention or ask questions about Luna’s Mum. There are topics too sore, even years later, to bring up. Ginny knew that now. She doubted she would ever feel truly comfortable talking about Tom, or the Diary.

But there was a certain level of camaraderie to their relationship now, similar but distinct from what they used to share. They’re both older, more broken than they were as children. They were both too old for their ages; children’s bodies with full-fledged trauma. They knew the lines they couldn’t cross, and Luna was right. It was nice to have a friend again.

* * *

 

 

Late that night, she wasn’t tired enough to fall asleep, couldn’t help tossing and turning, and wouldn’t turn the lights off because she _knew_ that was a recipe for a terrible nightmare, worse than usual. She kicked herself for not working hard enough or doing enough chores, she dreaded the nightmares she knew she’d wake up from which would be worse tonight than normal. She couldn’t quite bring herself to regret seeing Luna again, but her lack of regret didn’t bring sleep any quicker.

So instead, she snuck out her window, thankful she was on the first floor, the same as she would have before Hogwarts. She cast a Silencing Charm to keep her footfalls silent, and the window quiet as she opened it. She used to be able to be soundless enough without magic, but she was out of practice and she’d rather be safe than sorry.

She unlocked the broom shed and took her regular broom, straddling it and shooting off into the sky. The wind in her hair and against her face was harsh, and cold, and brutal. She did a few slow figure eights to warm up, getting her bearings. But eventually her speed picked up and her confidence returned. After she finished running the drills she used to run, she sat on her broom looking over the Burrow’s makeshift pitch. Without consciously thinking about it, she drifted higher and higher, higher than she’d ever been before. Probably as high as the school quidditch pitch.

She sat on her broom, on the precipice of a terrible decision. Before she could lose her nerve, her grit, her determination, she made her decision; she let go.

The broom didn’t stutter. It didn’t slowly peter out. It just stopped, no longer supporting her weight, just a regular broom tucked between her knees as she was suddenly plummeting towards the earth faster and faster, wind whipping her hair and her face, her stomach in her throat. Her body weightless, she fell, and fell, and fell, leaning forward into the drop.

Too soon for her liking, yet far too close to the ground, she pulled up, the broom taking a quick arc upwards. She was safe, and flying, and _alive._ She knew that it was dangerous, and it could have killed her, but even in the midst of the fall, she had the safety net of her broom. She could rely on herself. She was in control.

It was a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time, and she cherished it. She could finally, free up in the clouds on her broom, put words to the thoughts that had been plaguing her all summer that she hadn’t allowed herself to define.

The Diary was scary. The basilisk was horrifying. Tom was terrifying.

But the worst part of the last year was that at the end of it all, she wasn’t good enough, wasn’t strong enough to save herself. She needed to be saved. She used to dream of being the damsel in distress that Harry Potter would save before they had their happily ever after. Now it was her daily nightmare.

She put the broom back and snuck back into her room. She didn’t turn the lights off. And she still used her bed, blankets and pillows like a fort against the bad thoughts. She still had a terrifying dream of too yellow eyes, and shimmering scales, and screams that were immortalized on petrified faces.

At the climax of her nightmare, when she woke up screaming muffled gasps of terror, her Silencing Charm protected the rest of the Burrow from a rude awakening, as it always did. Her heart rate settled faster than normal, and she was able to roll over and go back to sleep within the next half hour. She didn’t stare at her ceiling until either her eyes were so heavy she couldn’t keep them open and the nightmares swallowed her again or until the sun finally dawned and she could justify leaving the comfort of her room for the light of day.

That day let her to fall into a quick routine, of waking up, doing her household chores, then meeting Luna by the river after a quick breakfast. They’d relax for an hour or two, before Ginny would be off to find chores to do in Ottery St. Catchpole. Then it would be home for dinner, where one or two nights a week Luna would join them. On the nights Luna joined them, Ginny would sneak out to spend time on a broom. Her nightmares didn’t go away, but they didn’t get worse either.

* * *

Eventually, the chores in Ottery St. Catchpole started to dry up. Quicker than she would have thought - apparently in a wizarding town, most people were willing to use magic to do all the household chores and yard work. Her Mum, it seemed, was the odd one out in having the kids do the chores by hand around the house.

She had helped at as many houses as she could, but many of them turned her down outright, and one of the houses in town looked nearly abandoned! She had been sure that the little village would sustain her unnatural and very un-childlike desire for chores, but the village wasn’t quite as big as it had seemed to her in her youth.

So she decided to head further afield, into the great unknown; the Muggle World.

Her first day back from that excursion, her Mother was furious. It didn’t matter to her Mum that she and Luna now spent their hour walking towards the muggle town instead of laying down or wandering about, which meant that Ginny was never alone. It didn’t matter that all the muggles she met were all incredibly kind and sweet people, who wouldn’t harm a fly. None of that mattered at all.

For the first time all summer, Ginny and her Mum had a fight.

It wasn’t like their old fights. It wasn’t Ginny not wanting to pick up after herself, or her Mum using a pet name that Ginny hated.

This fight was mean, and ruthless, and Ginny didn’t hold anything back. For two hours, they went at each other, getting louder and louder the whole while, until eventually Ginny snapped.

The house was silent in the wake of Ginny shouting “Nowhere is safe! Safe doesn’t exist! I found that diary with my stuff in my room, and it got its hooks into me in Hogwarts, and there was nothing you could have done about it! So if I want to walk up the river, I bloody well will, because it’s obviously not any more dangerous than curling up in my room and crying every night from the nightmares, where I might accidentally pick up another cursed object!”

They were both breathing heavily, and Ginny grimaced as she saw the stark white look of terror on her mother’s face, and she realized she’d said more than she meant to.

The only words her Mother spoke, after a minute of heavy silence, were “I thought they went away?”

Her Mum looked to be on the verge of tears.

Ginny let out a sharp bark of laughter, and it sounded cruel even to her ears. She felt too much like Tom as she said “You saw what you wanted to see. Some scars never heal.”

She headed to her room and closed the door, softly. She was not a petulant child, and she would not slam doors to make a point. She didn’t cry herself to sleep, because she had experienced worse than a simple shouting match in the past year. She didn’t forget her Silencing Charm, because she learned her lessons well.

She did cry extra hard when she woke up in the middle of the night, and it had been her Mother staring back at her in her nightmare, fear and surprise etched on her face as Ginny hissed at the basilisk to kill her, rip her, tear her, eat her.

The next morning, her Mum took her aside and made sure Ginny knew the Leg-Locker Curse and told her in no uncertain terms that ‘it’s only for emergencies, but if there is an emergency to use it and to _run away as fast as she can._ ’ Ginny didn’t argue, because yes the world was dangerous and she knew that now, but she also knew she wasn’t that strong in the grand scheme of things. The truth was that even a muggle could easily hurt a little witch like her.

But the end result was that she was allowed to walk to the nearest muggle town and look for chores. So all in all, she considered it a win.

* * *

When she finally decided to brave the muggle world, Ginny was clueless. But she mustered up the courage to watch the kinds of yard work the muggles did. There were farms which needed help, but also lots of houses which had large lawns. Apparently, muggles hated working for themselves, as many of them were happy to let her trim their lawns for them. The first house she went to had some large contraption that spit and sputtered and _whirred_ with too much noise, and more than just a little bit of smoke. It looked like something her Dad would love, and something incredibly dangerous she wanted no part of.

The owner, a kindly older man, looked sympathetically at her cautious gaze and said “Don’t you worry, dear. I’ve got just the thing for you.” And with a wink he was off in to his shed. He came back out with a similar contraption, but she didn’t need to push any buttons or pull any rope to start it up, and it didn’t take any petals, or petrols, or whatever that strong smelling stuff was. All it took was her pushing it, and it trimmed the grass quite nice. There was nothing to push it forward but her, and it was so incredibly heavy. She looked up at the kind older man and beamed at him.

“This is perfect! I’ll do your whole lawn, promise!” He chuckled as she went along, and she saw how he waited to make sure she wasn’t going to tire herself out or hurt herself. But she was an old hand at doing chores and knew well how to pace herself. He left her be.

The lawn was done in an hour or so, and there was more daylight left. Ginny looked sadly at the machine, hoping the next house that was willing to let her help out also had one just like it. She really wasn’t a fan of the loud one that sounded like a storm got pushed inside a metal container.

As she wiped the sweat from her brow, the man came back with a glass of lemonade and a smile for her.

“You know, love, I know Mrs. Wilkshire down the road probably needs a bit of a trim on her lawn as well. Don’t rightly know if she has a reel mower or not. Doubt she’d mind if you used mine. Nobody says no to a bit of free or cheap help and a quiet afternoon.” He gave her a wink as she gulped down the lemonade.

“You’re welcome to use my mower as a thanks for mowing me lawn. If you keep mowing every week, you can keep borrowing it too. Sound fair, love?”

Ginny knew her family didn’t have a lot money. And she knew full well that her Mum and Dad hated charity. As a result, she was very good at recognizing what was charity, and what was just simple kindness.

She didn’t turn down his offer, even though it was mostly charity. She saw the way he looked at her old clothes, patched and resewn. But pushing that mower created a burn in her arms and legs so fierce that she just knew it was going to send her into a sleep so heavy that even her nightmares would have trouble waking her. If she was lucky, she’d sleep so deep she wouldn’t remember them come morning.

She was surprised by the colorful paper bills that she started to accrue from some of the more generous people she did chores for. They had 5’s or 10’s on them, but that didn’t mean much to her. It was paper - how in the world was it actually worth anything? She assumed they were like knuts, and the coins she rarely saw were the valuable pieces of money - but there were so many kinds of coins, and she was too embarrassed to ask anyone to explain it to her.

Still, she never asked for any of the muggle money, and she was always very thankful that she was given any at all. She kept it all tucked away in her room, in her sock drawer, in a small box she’d gotten from Auntie Muriel for Christmas two years ago. It was magically locked, and her Aunt had told her the password and said “Every girl ought to have a place to keep private things.”

And for a few weeks, life was good.

It wasn’t great, and it was certainly not perfect. She was just as cautious as always. But it was good enough that she started to become comfortable with it all. So of course, it didn’t last.

* * *

One night while walking home a bit later than normal, a group of kids sitting near the river drinking something out of brightly colored cans called out to her. One of them got up when he saw that she was counting her paper money from the day. She wasn’t certain if 35 was a lot or not, but it was for her. Most days she was lucky to make 15 or 20.

“What’s that you got there, love?” She didn’t mind when Mr. Bowman or Mrs. Wiltshire called her love, but she didn’t much like it when this random boy did it.

“Just allowance money,” she called back, and she waved it at him to show. It’s not like it was a lot. Maybe if he realized how little she had, he’d just ignore her. She knew it wasn’t much because the people she did chores for always said so. “I know it’s not much, but take it dearie.” She still couldn’t figure out if the paper was like knuts or like sickles, but she was betting it was like knuts.

But the boy’s eyes went wide as she waved it at him, and he said “Well ain’t that a nice allowance. You sure got some nice parents, love. Hey, we got some spare beer here. How ‘bout you give us some o’ that cash, and we’ll hook you up with a drink?”

He winked at her, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“No thanks!"

She tried to keep walking home, but she couldn’t get by. The boy had crossed her path by then and walked in her way.

He tried to grab at the paper in her hands. The other boys and the one girl they were sitting with were all laughing at him as he lunged at her, and Ginny dodged out of his way while still trying to walk away and get home.

It became very obvious that he was drunk based on how he was moving, and that awful smell on his breath that was like stale firewhiskey. He should have caught her easily, given how much longer his legs were than hers. They played keep away for a little bit, him lunging and her dodging, while she tried to get away. She hoped he’d get bored and leave her alone, but it seemed less and less likely.

Ginny finally decided that she was done hoping and started to run away in earnest. She stopped when she realized that behind and to one side of her was the river. To her other side was the rest of the group who were all laughing and cheering on their friend. In front of her was the drunk boy, who looked no older than a 6th Year student, and suddenly she felt trapped. The river was too strong for her to try and get away by swimming. She did the only thing she could think of to try and get away.

She ran straight at him.

It surprised him, obviously, as she rammed her shoulder straight into his stomach. But even slightly drunk, and even after mowing lawns and doing chores and exploring Egypt all summer, she was still just an 11-year-old girl.

So the guy grabbed onto her, and held her to him, and tried to calm her down.

“Hey, hey, girlie, is’all fine. Just give us a bit of the cash, an we’ll give you a drink, and erryone will be happy, yeah?”

But Ginny wasn’t hearing his words anymore, all she heard was the rushing of the water, the laughing of the group, and the only thing in her head was the feeling of _I’m trapped, he’s got me, I can’t get away._ She struggled, kicked, flailed, and he walked back to the group still holding her tight, and she desperately did not want to be there anymore.

She reached for her wand, and she got it into her hand, and she didn’t think about what she was doing, or where she heard it before, but her wand flicked and she muttered “ _Relashio.”_ It was merely the first thing that came to mind, and the words left her lip before she had a chance to consider them. Her skin tingled as the hair on her arm stood on end, but nothing happened. Her spell failed.

She didn’t know what to do but she could feel his breath on her neck, and his arms around her shoulders, and her spell didn’t work, and they were going to take her money, and they were going to hurt her, _and, and, and_! It was suddenly all just too much to handle, so she lashed out instinctively.

She bit his hand.

He screeched “You little bitch!” and dropped her. After all that, they had changed position. He was between her and the water, and they were both only a few feet away from the edge. She wanted to run away, but it looked like his anger and the adrenaline had sobered him up. There was fury in his eyes, and blood on his hand where she bit him, and Ginny doubted that if she ran this time that he wouldn’t be able to keep up.

She was moving before she’d even realized what she was going to do.

A reassuring grasp of her wand in her hand, unseen by the rest of the group as she held it at her side. It burned in her palm, the feeling of her magic wanting to lash out.

“ _Locomotor Mortis.”_ With a whisper and a twist, he could no longer walk, and it looked like he was going to trip towards her, but she bull rushed him and rammed straight into his chest. This time, he was knocked straight back, unable to keep his balance.

He fell into the river. He was shouting for help, flailing his arms. Ginny was already running away, and she heard the rest of the group more focused on getting him out of the water than on chasing her down.

She didn’t look back to see if her curse kept his legs immobilized. Didn’t look back to see if his friends managed to get him out of the water. Didn’t look back to see what she’d done.

She was too focused on the burn in her legs, the heaving of her chest, and the coppery taste in her mouth to worry about anything else. She got far enough away to stop and calm down, and she washed her mouth out at the river.

That night, in addition to her regular indistinct nightmares about snakes, and hallways, and ink that drips like blood, there was also a roaring river and a screaming man, begging for help, as she ran away and never looked back.

The next morning, Ginny resolved herself to being extra careful and paranoid while walking to the muggle town. Luckily, she didn’t find any people wandering about, and she got on with mowing quite easily. Luna noticed her reticence, but in keeping with their unspoken agreement didn’t mention it.

She never mentioned to her Mum what she had encountered that day, not wanting anything to disrupt her daily activities. She needed the exhaustion and workout now more than ever, with only more uncertainties to fuel the fire of her fears. Sadly for her, things didn’t pan out the way she’d hoped.

She woke up one morning to her Mum worrying at her apron as Ginny worked on her breakfast. As she got up to do her chores her Mum stopped her.

“Ginny, dear. You’ve been working so hard, lately. Don’t you think it might be nice to take a break?”

Ginny’s entire body clenched.   
  
“I think the work’s been good for me, yeah? Idle hands, and all that rot! You’ve always said you wished we were less lazy.” She smiled, and it only felt the slightest bit brittle.

“It’s just that, you’re not home so often any more, love. Would it be so bad to take a few days off? Maybe help me with the cooking again, or the washing up?”

The tremor in her voice to match the wavering in her eyes. Ginny’s Mum turned around and started chopping something, refusing to meet Ginny’s eye.

“What is it, Mum. What’s the real reason?”

“There’s a… well, there’s been-. Oh you don’t need to worry about it! I just need you to stay home with me, and not go wandering about the countryside where anything could happen at a moment’s notice! I worry about you all day, and then I barely get to talk to you at all when you get home! What happened to my little girl?”

Her Mum was visibly crying at that point, though she tried to hide the tears, and Ginny wasn't sure how to react. Anger, at being coddled? Annoyance at being told what to do?   
  
Fear, that her Mum may have heard about the boy and the river?

Unsure what to feel, Ginny lashed out.

Their second argument of the summer, a record low to be honest, started out calmer than the first.

“Your little girl is right here, Mum. She’s just not so little anymore.” The tears in her Mum’s eyes were more noticeable at that her Mum stopped trying to hide them as she let out a soft sob. Ginny wanted to feel terrible for being cruel to her Mum, but she couldn’t. She needed her chores more than anything else. They helped her cope, helped keep her so tired she couldn’t think. There was nothing more important than not thinking about the shadows in her past and the ice in her mind as she laid down at night to sleep.

“Today. Just… stay home today, love, and I promise your father and I will explain it all tonight. To all of you, at once. I didn’t want to, but I don’t know if you’ll stay home otherwise. Please, just promise me today?”

Ginny sighed. She could handle one day, she supposed. Her Silencing Charm was strong enough to handle it, she was sure of that at least. She supposed she should make sure her summer homework was done anyways.

The day was long and torturous, filled with ink stains and cramped hands, but eventually her Dad came home and her Mum had a whispered, furtive conversation with him. After dinner he rounded them all up in the living room, and told them the bad news, the reason they’d have to stay close to the house from now on.

Ginny was reminded, rather harshly, of the fact that there were more important things than sleeping mostly through the night. Like safety, and security, and her very strong desire to not die. All of which became very relevant when her parents told her that Sirius Black was on the loose.

Being stuck at home was torture. It was made worse by the fact that they were all stuck in the cramped house, together, for most of the day. Ginny had taken over all the chores for her four brothers, but was still done by early in the afternoon. That left her hours to her own devices.

Homework and remedial study took up some of that time. Ginny found that on some topics from the last school year, she had spaced out; likely Tom’s influence.

As she worried over first-year topics that seemed familiar but she just couldn’t recall, she listened to the silence in the house, the only sounds penetrating her studying were the click of the clock on the wall, and the hum of her Mum in the kitchen, lightly wafting into the living room. A silent Weasley household was a rarity, but with the somber mood it was a more common occurrence. Ginny relished in it.

What worried her more than what she couldn’t remember were the topics where she had second, or even third year level knowledge. She chose to ignore those instances, and deal with it later. Any time she read one of those topics the clock’s ticking seemed more ominous, like it reverberated through the house more strongly, and her Mum’s humming seemed further away.

Writing letters to Luna took up even more time. She couldn’t go visit Luna anymore, to keep her Mum happy, but they still wrote letters constantly. Or, as constantly as she could having to share Errol with Fred, George, Mum, and Dad. Percy had his own owl, a gift for getting Prefect the summer before, and Ron was adamant that “writing Harry would do more harm than good.”

But for the most part, Ginny was intensely bored, with nothing to keep her body or mind occupied. Her birthday came and went with little fanfare, although she appreciated the effort her Mum put into her cake, and the fact that Luna was allowed to visit.

But her Mum eventually noticed the bags under her eyes beginning to get darker, and the way she nearly fell asleep into her breakfast. Ginny could see the worry etched onto her Mum’s face in the lines of her strained smile, or the crow’s feet near her eyes.

She could hear her Mum and Dad argue late at night in the kitchen. Her room was right near it, on the first floor. She couldn’t help but wonder why they never thought to use a Silencing Charm.

“Can we really afford it right now, Mollywobbles? And she’s been doing so much better lately, that trip to Egypt helped so much…”

“Of course she’s not better! She’s gotten worse! You see how she spaces out, dear, and just stares right through us all? She _needs_ to talk to somebody. I don’t… I won’t have her become like her friend, the Lovegood girl. She’s darling, Luna is, but Xeno lost it a bit when Pandora passed, and Luna was the worse for it. It’ll make things a bit tight this year, but the book list is back to normal, and we’d planned on having to buy as many books again as last year. I’m sure Bill or Charlie wouldn’t mind us using their old textbooks as well, if we have to.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll book an appointment in the morning. I just hope you’re right that it’s the best thing for her.”

So she wasn’t surprised that in two days, Ginny found herself sitting in the apple orchard across from a very pretty brunette named Ms. Tipple. She had a gentle look about her and was so thin Ginny was afraid a stiff breeze might blow her away. Ginny was torn between refusing the help and stubbornly proving that she was fine, thanks very much, or attempting to open up so that her parents weren’t wasting their money.

The silence that hung between the two of them was thick and heavy, until Ms. Tipple eventually piped up with “Do you like living near an apple orchard? I imagine I’d love it, although I might get sick of eating so many apples, I suppose.”

Ginny was stunned silent for a moment. Weren’t they supposed to talk about her feelings, and other nonsense like that? She scrambled to answer when she realized she’d stared at the woman too long without saying a word.

“It’s not so bad.” She ventured. “Mum’s apple pies are the best, really, so that makes up for how often we have them.”

“I suppose it would. I grew up in the city, mind, and I always used to be jealous of my friends who lived in the country. Some of them were jealous of me right back, but I couldn’t see the appeal. They saw large buildings and being a five minute walk from everything imaginable! I saw crowded streets and the smell of sewage.” She wrinkled her nose at the memory.

Ginny let out a small giggle, mostly due to her confusion at this bizarre conversation. It was far too mundane compared to what Ginny had been imagining talking to a Healer would be like. “I guess it’s all about perspective, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ms. Tipple smiled for a moment, then continued. “Do you have any pets?”

For an entire hour, their conversation carried on like that. Simple and meandering, Ms. Tipple almost reminded Ginny of Luna. The way she would ‘hmmm’ in response to something, or randomly change the topic. It was soothing, almost.

“Well, that’s nearly our hour then. Just one last bit, and you really and truly don’t need to agree to this. But I am required, by oath, to ask if you would consent to a mind scan so that I might gain a more accurate magical understanding of the state of your mind space and mental acuity in the current moment.” She paused and leaned in to whisper “That’s an exact quote out of my textbook.”

Ginny desperately, vehemently, strongly wanted to say no. Her mind was hers, hers alone, and she’d never let another person in! But her parents had spent so much money on this already…

“How many more sessions do you think we need to cure me?”

“Oh, honey, you’ll never be cured.” The words speared through Ginny like an icicle through her heart and they sucked the air right out of her. “For people who experience trauma like you have, it never goes away. It stays with you. I could obliviate you, steal the memories away, but the after effects of them would remain. You don’t get cured. You grow. You learn. You cope. And one day, maybe, you’ll go a whole day without thinking about it. And if you’re lucky then soon after it’ll be two days. Then a week. Then a month. But it will always be with you, and always be a part of you. Don’t try to cure it; don’t try to run from it. Try to heal from it, to move and grow into a stronger version of yourself.”

Ginny was floored as Ms. Tipple continued speaking.

“You’re doing the best you can, under the circumstances. Maybe not in the healthiest way, but it’s likely the most effective for the moment. Anything I tried to do to change it might negatively affect your recovery. Your parents said your nightmares are almost completely gone, and that you don’t have any trouble going to sleep anymore? They said you ran into a small cursed artifact, and that they were afraid of how it’s affecting you. Your parents are worried that you aren’t completely healed yet, but it’s only been a few months! This recovery will be a long road for you. It will be period of self-discovery! A chance to grow, and to learn. Coming into contact with a dark artifact is terrifying, surely, but it’s not entirely uncommon. You’re dealing with it by being active, right?” Ginny could only nod along with her, dumbstruck as she trailed ahead like a train with no brakes.

“Then the only thing I can see is to find a way to be active while not being able to leave the house. Workout routines? Maybe try and, I don’t know, learn a martial art? Do quidditch drills before bed? If you’re willing to try it, I always suggest meditation, but I’m not sure most meditation techniques would work for you. You’ve got to sit quietly and not move for long periods of time.”

Ginny paused for a short while, taking in the onslaught of information.

“I think,” she began “that I would rather you didn’t take a peek at my mind. And thanks very much for your suggestions. I… I really appreciate them.”

Ms. Tipple winked at her as she got up. “Good choice, love. I really don’t think that taking a peek in there is the right way to go. They trained us in it a bit in my Healer Apprenticeship, but I was never the best at it. Let’s go talk to your parents, yeah?”

Ginny tried not to see the relief on her Dad’s face as the Healer recommended that Ginny just be left to her own devices, to allow her to heal naturally. Her Mum’s lips tightened when the healer recommended allowing Ginny to go flying before bed but nodded her head curtly.

Ginny tried all of the recommendations. Meditation didn’t do anything for her; sitting around and being quiet while trying not to think was terribly boring, and dangerous - a few thoughts that didn’t feel like her own would slip in and she quickly gave up on meditation. She didn’t know the first thing about learning a martial art. But flying before bed, running sprints both across their makeshift quidditch pitch in the air and on her feet across the ground, that helped a bit. And doing laps around the Burrow before doing so many push ups and squats and pull ups in her room that her body felt like it was burning from inside out multiple times a day, all of that helped too.

Soon the bags under her eyes were almost completely gone, and any time she caught herself spacing out, she was doing more laps or workouts or _anything_ physical so she could focus on the pain in her muscles rather than the fear in her mind. It wasn’t perfect, but it was tolerable.

All too soon, it was the last day of summer, and the whole Weasley Clan plus Luna met Harry and Hermione in Diagon Alley for last minute shopping. Ginny shrugged off her Mum’s attempt to buy new (second hand) clothes, as most of hers still fit fine, and anyways she and Luna were nearly the same size.

Hermione got a mean looking kneazle/cat hybrid, and Ginny chuckled as it eyed Ron’s rat hungrily. Ginny snuck away from her family at one point, under the guise of looking at something with Luna for her Dad, to go to Gringotts. Her Mum thought she was one shop away while she was all the way down the alley, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

“I’d like to exchange this money, please.” She held out the stack of paper muggle money, hoping beyond hope that it might equal at least a few galleons. If they were like knuts, she’d be lucky to get one!

She was shocked when she was handed back almost _40 whole galleons!_

She walked out in a daze, thanking her lucky stars for all those crazy muggles. She very carefully kept her pouch of gold coins hidden from everyone except Luna, who wasn’t even phased by that exorbitant sum of money.

The day waned, and they all spent the night in the Leaky Cauldron.

She heard Ron say something like “crazy witch worked like a Hufflepuff all summer long - wouldn’t give it a rest! At least she helped with my chores though” as he admired his brand new wand and talked to Hermione and Harry about his summer. Ginny wasn’t even offended by the comment. She just cast her Silencing Charm and headed to sleep.

The next morning was a mad dash to finish packing and get in the car. Once they were finally in and on their way, they ended up turning around way too many times. But then she was there, staring at the Hogwarts Express, shimmering scarlet in the sunlight, steam streaming into the air, students standing all around. She took a deep breath, hugged her Mum goodbye, grabbed Luna by the hand, and thought to herself _I’m not ready yet._

She stepped onto the train anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright folks, we have officially left the realm of what I have had beta read with the posting of this chapter. This chapter, and every subsequent one, has only been read and edited by myself. I’ll do my best to keep up the quality of writing! Thanks so much for reading!


	4. Dropping

The train ride started out quite uneventful. Her mum had warned her brothers to keep an eye on her, which made her want to smile and frown at the same time. She had settled on a light nod in her Mum’s direction. Her Mum and Dad both looked as though they wanted to reach out towards her, so she gave a brisk “I love you, I’ll write soon. Bye!” She brushed passed them, moving quickly to the train before she lost her nerve.

Luna trailed behind her, having been offered a ride to the station with them to save her Dad the trouble. As soon as they were all on the train, her brothers scattered, their Mum’s words forgotten.

Percy gave her a short nod and a long look before he wandered off on his own, a slightly conflicted expression on his face. He did at least wait for her to give him a small smile and a nod back before he left.

The twins had no such reservations. With shouts of “Be safe!” and “Stay with Ron!” they were off. She wasn’t sure if the twins had really forgiven her for the ‘bucket incident’ or not, but she didn’t want to press too hard to find out. And honestly, she wasn’t too keen to spend much time around them anyways. When she was younger, she had loved their carefree attitude, their constant jokes, their easy smiles. Now, she wasn’t so sure that they just weren’t willing to grow up yet.

Ron tried the hardest. He, Harry, and Hermione had offered to find a compartment that would fit all of them, but Ginny wasn’t willing to leave Luna behind. They were so late that the only compartment left they could find was one with an older man, ragged and worn looking, sleeping in it. His trunk, which somehow looked even more battered than his clothes, said R. Lupin.

There wasn’t quite enough room for them all to fit comfortably. Without Luna it might have been better, and Ginny could see the look on her face. Luna felt uncomfortable, and unwanted, and intrusive. She was getting ready to make up an excuse to leave, Ginny could see it in her eyes. Instead, Ginny snagged her hand and pulled her in so they could sit on the floor of the compartment together. That gave more room for Ron and his friends to sit on the seats.

The three of them all whispered over her and Luna’s heads about who the sleeping man might be. Luna pulled out a copy of the most recent edition of the Quibbler, and the two of them started reading over it together, giggling and discussing and murmuring as quietly as they could. They both staunchly ignored the look Hermione gave them when she saw the name of the paper they pulled out.

The train ride was long and slow and rocking. The blurring trees and countryside lulled Ginny and Luna into a near sleeping state as the Quibbler slowly lost their interest. The chugging of the engine and the roar of the wheels beat in time with Ginny’s heart, and she couldn’t help but think that maybe Hogwarts wouldn’t be so bad this year. She hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep the night before, worrying about going back to the scene of her nightmares, so she let herself rest her eyes, gently, just to grab a little rest.

Later, Ginny wouldn’t be able to say what it was that woke her up. It might have been Luna’s murmurs next to her, sleep addled and soft, as she jerked next to Ginny in her sleep.

“Mum, no, don’t.”

It could have been the increased noise in the compartments next to them. Shouts of surprise and screams of terror, loud enough to be heard even through the compartment walls.

“What the hell is-?!”

It was possibly the way the train slowed before coming to a complete stop, with the rhythm and rocking being halted abruptly with an ear-splitting screech. Harry, Hermione, and Ron had stopped whispering as well, only emphasizing the sudden silence of the train engine and the lack of squealing of wheels on tracks as they forewent their attempt to not wake up their potential professor. Instead they spoke at a normal volume, confused and bewildered as they tried to figure out why the train had stopped early.

“We can’t be there already, can we?”

But most likely? It was the cold that woke her.  Frost on her breath as she woke, rime creeping along the windows like branching vines, goosebumps covering her flesh. It felt like she was in the Chamber again, alone and laying on the cold stone floor.

As she came into full wakefulness, she attempted to lean closer in to Luna for body warmth, scared and confused and looking to burrow away from her fears. It didn’t help; all it managed to do was cause Luna to keel out in agony “No, please, don’t leave, please.”  
  
What was going on? Ginny tried to get up, to move, to run away. She wanted to look at Ron, or Hermione, or Harry to see what they were doing. Were they experiencing the same as her and Luna?

As she looked around, though, the train compartment was gone. All around her was the chamber, cold and damp and uncaring of her plight. She looked up, and reaching out towards her was a demon, a hole in the universe that radiated the biting cold she knew so well. She wanted to scream and to wail and to cry. She knew it. Hogwarts wasn’t safe. They’d promised and promised it would be, but it wasn’t, it couldn’t be, the Chamber was there, and here was a demon, and why, oh why was this happening to her?

She wanted to be saved. She desperately wanted Harry to show up, to save her, just like last time. She loathed herself for it, for her weakness, but she knew she couldn’t win; she knew she didn’t have the strength to survive. In that moment of weakness, she admitted to herself that she wasn’t strong enough. She needed someone to save her, and though it rankled it was true! She could already feel the frost covering her body, and she tried to scream _Somebody, please, anybody, save me!_ No words left her lips, and only a silent cry was etched upon her face.  
  
She heard Harry’s screams reverberate through her, and she knew then with a scary certainty the truth. He wouldn’t save her this time. Nobody could save her. She was alone.

The demon loomed over her, staring at her with its empty cowl. She knew this feeling. This all-encompassing emptiness. She had felt it before, in the chamber. She was losing herself, some indefinable part of her that was important and intrinsic to her; it was being sucked out and in its place all that was left was a hollow husk of who she used to be.

She was dying. Again.

“ _Your body belongs to the Chamber. It should lie there. Forever. Don’t worry, Ginny. It’ll be okay. You and I can be friends forever, then, right?”_

Tom’s words wafted to her ears, like snowflakes on a winter wind. Cold, and stinging, and beautiful. It was her Tom before he’d gone crazy, when he’d been her friend and cared about her, and was just so. Damned. Reasonable.

Ginny screamed. For how long, she wasn’t sure. Maybe for only a moment. Maybe for an eternity.

Then suddenly there was a flash of blinding silver light, and the demon screeched as it fled. Its scream tore at her ear drums, and as it retreated she imagined fang and claw and fur attacking cold and dark and death. She looked around and realized she was in the train compartment once again.

No stone floor. No empty-hooded demon. No Tom.

Ginny stopped fighting. She stopped holding on to life as hard as she could, let go of all her tension and will to fight. It was over, now, and she could just let go. At least for a moment.

The last thing Ginny thought before losing consciousness was _I knew I shouldn’t have come back._

* * *

Ginny woke, a scream on her lips. But she was an old hat at this game now, so instead she ended up just gasping deeply for breath, less a screech of terror and more like the noise a dying animal might make. As she awoke, restraining her cries as she locked away her nightmare deep down inside where she didn’t have to think on it, she tried to calm her heart; it was racing so fast it’d rival the beating wings of a stampeding hippogryph. She calmed herself, slowly, and looked around; she was in a hospital bed. Off white walls and light-yellow curtains. The too-clean smell pervading her senses combined with the sight of the stars shining through arched glass windows helped calm her down.

She was in Hogwarts. She had survived.

Although if just _getting_ to the school this year was enough to almost kill her, she wasn’t sure she was all that eager to see how the rest of the year would go. She looked over at the bed next to her, and saw Harry sleeping quietly. He looked peaceful, in sleep, but uncomfortable as well, as though he wasn’t actually getting any rest. It was a weird mixture to see etched upon his face.

Apparently, she wasn’t as quiet as she thought she was while waking up, because Madame Pomfrey came bustling over, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Oh, dearie, you’re awake. I didn’t think you’d rise until morning.” Ginny flinched under the onslaught of spells the matron sent at her, but they were harmless; diagnostic spells, most likely. Ginny even recognized the first one she sent; it was the one Bill had taught her over the summer.

Ginny saw Pomfrey frown at her flinch, but neither of them commented on it. Instead, the older woman pulled a chocolate bar out of her apron and handed it to Ginny.

“You’re mostly fine dear. A more severe reaction to the Dementors than most, but not at all surprising. Normally I don’t recommend any sweets right before sleeping, but given the circumstances, a bit of chocolate is certainly reasonable. Ring me if you need, Ms. Weasley, but we should both be heading back to bed.”  
  
With a few more cursory checks and a last once over, Madame Pomfrey left Ginny to her own devices, hoping they could both get more sleep.

Ginny laid there, the moon peeking down through the tall infirmary windows, and didn’t even bother trying to go to sleep. She stared at the glass panes, tear streaked from the rain that plagued the castle earlier in the day, the late summer storm that kept threatening to reappear with drizzles and hints of heavy rain. The hospital room was too clean, too sterile, and while at first it was comforting, the longer she stayed the more it set Ginny on edge. It smelled floral, but in a way that it was Charmed to do so rather than naturally. Ginny couldn’t see any fresh flowers anywhere.

She spent the night shivering, from the fear or the cold she couldn’t tell. Whatever that creature was, that demon, that unending evil, it frightened her. Like all her nightmares wrapped up in one gruesome visage, the demon represented everything that she had spent the summer trying desperately to forget.

All her weaknesses. All her failures. All her fears.

She could only hope desperately that she wouldn’t run into one of those again.

She heard a rustling as the sun crested the sky, signaling morning. She looked over and saw Harry laying in the bed, separated from her by a curtain pulled only halfway between them. While he was just coming into wakefulness Ginny still hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. He groggily reached for his glasses, and as he put them on, he looked up at her with wide eyes.

“Ginny? What are you doing here?”

“You both had an adverse reaction to the Dementor, Mr. Potter. I dare say it’s an uncommon one, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility.” Ginny hadn’t even heard Madame Pomfrey walk over! The mediwitch had appeared out of nowhere. At least now Ginny knew what those monsters were called. “For those few who have experienced… particular trauma, the Dementors can affect them a bit more harshly.”

Ginny couldn’t help but notice Luna wasn’t with them as well. She’d have thought that Luna losing her Mum qualified as ‘particular trauma,’ but she wasn’t about to say anything about it. She decided she might ask Luna later. Then again, maybe not. That question tread just a bit too close to ‘Topics Unmentionable.’

Madame Pomfrey let them go on to breakfast with one last piece of chocolate each, and a recommendation to have hot chocolate with their meals for the foreseeable future. Chocolate was apparently a surefire method of staving off the effects of Dementor exposure.

The hallways Ginny and Harry walked through echoed with their footsteps, stretching long before them and twisting into each other. Ginny didn’t know the way from the Hospital Wing to the Great Hall, but thankfully Harry seemed confident.

The silence between them grew as they walked further, and Ginny didn’t know how to break it. She wasn’t even sure that she wanted to. She had so many things that she felt she needed to say and none of them felt adequate, no matter how she worded it.

 _Thank you for saving me_ warred with _I’m sorry I was so weak I needed you to save me_

 _How was your summer_ died in the face of answering any questions about her own summer.

She was willing to bet neither of them wanted to talk about the Dementor. As they finally entered the Great Hall, and headed towards the Gryffindor table, Ginny murmured a quick “Thanks” before scurrying to the opposite end of the table from where she knew he’d sit; Ron and Hermione had saved him a seat.

Ginny wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for, specifically, but she didn’t care. At least she had said something.

* * *

Ginny’s first few weeks back at Hogwarts brought out many feelings she didn’t expect to experience.

As she walked into the Great Hall at breakfast on her first day, she was one of the earliest people there. But the Hall filled quickly, and all too soon there was simply too much noise. Voices jumbled together, turning into a low, consistent murmur that surrounded Ginny on all edges. She felt squished at the table, people on either side of her that she didn’t know. Her breaths started coming in shorter and sharper, and she eventually had to leave.

Breakfast barely half done, she raced out of the Great Hall the moment McGonagall had handed her the new schedule. She bolted out of the room, using the need to get her supplies from her dormitory as an excuse when McGonagall gave her a glare.

She was confused, at first, when she walked into her old dorm room and couldn’t find any of her things. She eventually ventured further out, to the next floor up, and was relieved to find her trunk sitting at the edge of a bed.

She couldn’t tell if she was more relieved that her stuff hadn’t disappeared, or that she wouldn’t have to sleep in the same bed as last year, where she had said goodnight to Tom almost every night, and said hello to him nearly every morning.

After her first class, she realized she’d have another problem. Walking through the hallways while they were so crowded between classes wasn’t easy for her. She was jostled back and forth as she scurried about, and she tugged her books tightly to her chest. The hallways towered up, twisted in on themselves, and it took forever to get where she was going. The whole way from class to class she was surrounded by her classmates and their loud, chattering noise that battered against her ears.

She wanted desperately to leave it all behind, to run out the front doors of the castle and enjoy the fresh open air. She wanted to feel the sun beat down on her back and listen to nothing louder than the gentle whisper of the breeze. Instead, she was stuck being shuffled about between classes, and she could barely find the space to breathe.

Lunch was easier to handle. The lunches were staggered, so the Great Hall wasn’t as full as it had been at breakfast, and Ginny managed to last longer. Not the whole time. She felt prickles on the back of her neck the longer she felt closed in, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that the whispers just out of reach were about her. She had to remind herself that no one _knew_ it was her who had controlled the basilisk. No one _knew_ it had been her who had terrorized the school. No one _knew_ that she had been so easily taken over by Tom.

She still left lunch early.

Dinner was the worst, though. Just as crowded as breakfast, but everyone showed up at the same time. A stampede of wild students, charging the Great Hall, caused Ginny to recoil in fear. She left after only 15 minutes, before the main course had even started. Staying in the Great Hall would have been like staying underwater, slowly drowning herself in the judgement and the crowds, being swallowed up by the rumbling tide of the voices of so many people.

Ginny tugged the curtains surrounding her bed closed, cast a Silencing Charm around herself, and cried herself to sleep.

The next morning, Ginny went to breakfast early, hoping that things might be a little easier the second day around. Sadly for her, things were worse.

The room filled up too quickly, and Ginny was lucky she’d been sure to finish her whole breakfast as fast as possible, just in case. With a muttered “See you in class” to whoever cared to listen, Ginny left the Great Hall once again.  
  
The hallways continued to stifle her, the Great Hall continued to terrify her. She cried herself to sleep even harder on her second day at Hogwarts. She wouldn’t admit it, not in a million years and not to anyone ever, but right on the cusp of sleep, pillow damp and eyes sore, she thought to herself “I wish Tom were here.”

Her third day of classes were on a Friday, and Ginny was terrified of the weekend. What would she do with herself? Would her classmates notice when she hid in bed for two days straight?  
  
It was all Ginny could do to get herself out of bed Friday morning, with the thought that three days in a row hiding in her room, and a day of missing classes, would surely draw the wrong sort of attention. She’d bribed herself into going to breakfast and classes on Friday morning with the promise of two days of pure solitude.

But as she approached the sparse Gryffindor table early Friday morning, Ginny was shocked to see a robe with blue and bronze trim settled down, and a bright blonde head of hair attached to a pair of radishes for earrings, sitting easy as you please at the Gryffindor table.  
  
“Luna,” Ginny hissed, “what are you doing at my table?”  
  
“You looked rather lonely. And I supposed you could use a friend.” Luna was scooping up an odd concoction of jams and spreads onto a piece of toast, and Ginny wasn’t entirely sure the toast could still be considered ‘edible.’

“You can’t just sit at a different house’s table!”  
  
Luna looked around, as though surprised to find herself in her seat. “I can’t? Then, however did I get here? Have I miraculously become a Gryffindor? I think I’d look good in red.”  
  
Ginny just stared at her, dumbstruck, before grumbling “It’s scarlet, not red” and sitting down next to her. She’d found over the summer that Luna was now more difficult to argue with after their reunification than she’d ever been in their childhood.

Luna let out a bright smile, and continued adding jams to her toast, until she finally took a single bite, and pronounced it “The worst toast I think I’ve ever had.”

Ginny could only laugh and started working on her own breakfast.

Soon, however, the Great Hall started to swell with students, and Ginny’s breaths shortened. Right as she was about to get up and bolt out of the room, she heard Luna pronounce “You know, Ginny, I think this toast is so bad, I can’t even finish it. I suppose I’ll leave it for any wandering Thermellows. They’re known to be quite ravenous, did you know?”  
  
As Luna babbled on about a creature Ginny had never heard of before, and quite possibly didn’t exist, she grabbed Ginny’s hand and dragged her up from the table. Ginny was so shocked by Luna’s actions that she didn’t resist at all as Luna took them on a walk around the castle. They wasted away the rest of the breakfast hour before they finally parted for classes.

Ginny realized, as she sat in her class that Friday morning, that she was smiling for the first time since she’d arrived at Hogwarts. At dinner, when Luna did the same exact thing, with nearly the same exact excuse, (substituting a frightening sandwich with far too many condiments for a slice of toast with an exorbitant amount of jams), Ginny pulled her into a quick, tight hug right outside the Great Hall, and whispered “Thanks, Luna.”

Luna just hugged her back even tighter.

* * *

As she woke up on the morning of her first weekend, Ginny was gripped with fear at the idea of leaving her bed. A whole two days with nothing to do. No classes had assigned homework yet, only reading. The day before had been better, with Luna as a shield against the world, but Luna couldn’t protect her forever. She spent the morning doing all her readings, never leaving her bed. She skipped lunch as well to reread all the sections assigned, but she was becoming bored.

Her stomach was too empty by dinner time, and she had to relent. She went down for dinner, scurrying between groups of people and avoiding getting too close. Her dinner was eaten as slowly as she could, hoping that the draw of her hunger might outweigh her fear of the Great Hall. The truth was, her solitude was not as comforting as she imagined it to be. She wanted everyone to leave her space, but she hated to be alone with nothing to do but think her own thoughts.

What would she do tomorrow? What would she do tonight? Ginny had been doing quite well with her nightmares, and classes had been engaging enough that even if she wasn’t physically tired, her brain felt enough like mush that sleep was a welcome embrace.

But with no classes planned and no homework left Ginny feared her weekends, and the nightmares an idle day or two might bring.

Once again, Luna provided an answer.

“I was thinking we should go exploring, Ginny. It’ll be like an adventure.”

“Are you sure, Luna?”  
  
Luna simply grabbed her hand and whisked her away.

“I’ve heard there’s a secret passageway on the fourth floor that is lit up by a magical moss. Flickering Bushwicks are known to hate sunlight, and are _also_ known hate the dark. It’d be a perfect place to find some, don’t you think?”  
  
And just like that a new schedule was born. Ginny and Luna spent all Saturday evening, and all of Sunday as well, exploring Hogwarts and all the secrets it had to offer.

During the week, the hallways seemed foreboding. Cramped, stretching, twisting in on themselves, they hemmed Ginny in. But spending the weekend with Luna, on the floors and in the spaces no one had been to for years, Ginny could steady herself with a breath and ignore the dreary grey of the stone, or the gargoyle’s too piercing eyes, the suits of armor that creaked when no one was around.

The following week, by mutual agreement but with no words spoken, Ginny and Luna did all their homework together, nearly the day it was assigned. They continued that agreement every subsequent week for the rest of the year, as well. They almost never had homework left by the weekend except for the occasional long essay or project, and as a result their weekends were often filled with long walks along the castle, exploring together.

Some days they were looking for something specific. An interesting tapestry Luna had read about, a particular hidden passageway, or one of Luna’s many creatures. But always while they explored, they talked.

They had a tendency to chat about the work they’d been doing in school that week. Ginny still had some areas where she very clearly hadn’t been paying attention during their first year, and it showed. Luna had an interesting opinion on almost everything, and their talks over the weekend helped cover any gaps Ginny found in her education.

Even more interesting were the instances where Ginny had more knowledge than she was supposed to. She tried hard to not focus too intensely on any of the potential reasons _why._

Luna was able to follow a conversational thread like a bloodhound, reaching new conclusions and sniffing out ideas whenever Ginny showed an inclination towards a topic that they hadn’t covered in class. It was scattered throughout the subjects but was most easy to see when she referenced some principle of arithmancy, or some obscure rune that would be relevant. Leftover remnants of her time with Tom.

Luna skimmed over those moments as though they were nothing out of the ordinary, and simply expanded on the discussion as though it was normal to casually dissect obscure knowledge. Or at least, obscure to them by their second-year standards. Ginny merely added it to the list of things which made Luna wonderful.

Their talks weren’t always about school work, though. Ginny couldn’t stop laughing when Luna had gone off on a huge rant about Draco Malfoy, Hippogryphs, the proper respect that magical creatures still didn’t receive and a whole weekend worth of mumblings that sounded suspiciously like “dunderheads who don’t deserve being named after dragons.” Luna’s use of one of Professor’s Snape’s favorite words just increased Ginny’s amusement.

Ginny never let her guard down, though. Hogwarts still didn’t feel safe; it didn’t feel like home. She avoided the second floor like it was filled with cursed fire, going near it only to pass it on the stairs to a different floor. Luna never mentioned this either, and Ginny could only assume that the Headmaster had something to do with _none_ of her classes being scheduled on the second floor.

All in all, her first month back at Hogwarts was lukewarm. It wasn’t the living embodiment of her nightmares she had envisioned in her pondering and worrying over the summer. But it also certainly wasn’t the home away from home she’d been dreaming of for her entire childhood.

Ginny resolved herself to a half-life at Hogwarts. Maybe in time, it would get better. She promised herself that each successive month without trouble would make it easier and easier to feel at home.

The first week of October proved to remind her that Hogwarts, as it was, would never be her home.

* * *

 

It started with little things. Small occurrences that Ginny could easily overlook. That Ginny _did_ overlook, to her shame. Some of the same signs that she had had the year before were present, but because it was Luna, eccentric, creative, hard to predict Luna, she ignored them.

Luna was wearing mismatched earrings; one earing was a radish and one was a pebble with a hole carved through it, even though the day before she’d had two radishes. The next day she was only wearing one earring. She came to class without shoes, and two days later came completely barefoot. Luna misplaced papers that Ginny knew she had written; Ginny had to speak up and defend her to Professor McGonagall more than once.

“Yes, Luna wrote those papers, I was with her when she wrote them. We did them together in the library.”

“Well then she can have until tomorrow to find it. But forgetfulness and a disorganized mind will do her no help in her practical studies.”

When Luna’s bottle cap necklace went missing though, Ginny started to get suspicious. Luna never mentioned it, but Ginny knew collecting bottle caps and butterbeer corks and making jewelry with them was something that the Lovegoods used to do as a family; all three of them together, before Luna’s Mum passed away.

Luna would never willingly lose her necklace unless she had a new one already made to wear. She almost never took the thing off!  
  
So Ginny began to follow Luna, definitely _not_ stalking her! She couldn’t bring it up directly, not unless she knew she was sure. If Luna was being targeted by something like Tom, then Ginny and Luna had no chance to beat it. She didn’t know how she would save Luna, but that was a problem for later. First was confirming that there was a problem at all.

When Luna left their study sessions, Ginny would be only a minute or two behind. And whenever they didn’t have a class together, Ginny would ask to leave for the bathroom before class ended, or make up some other excuse to leave class early.

After a week of skulking about, she was running out of excuses to leave class early and was nearing the end of her rope. She got lucky right after lunch at the end of the week when Luna had left early. They no longer sat at Lunch every day, only about half of them. But Ginny always kept Luna in a spot she could see her. So when Luna left abruptly, Ginny followed after her.

Ginny almost lost her in the hallways, but heard the pattering of running feet, followed by a glimpse of golden hair that flashed in the corner of her eye. As she looked, she saw whoever it was, was being followed by three taller students. All of them were wearing blue and bronze as well.

And all four of them were headed down the stairs to the second floor. Ginny still hadn’t gathered the courage to go there, and she was grateful none of her classes had been scheduled on that floor. She was quite sure it wasn’t a coincidence.

She dithered near the staircase, desperately fighting with herself.

_I need to know what’s going on with Luna!_

_I can’t go to the second floor, I just CAN’T!_

She heard high pitched titters and laughter, and a sharp cry that sounded too much like Luna, and Ginny didn’t even have time to finish making a decision. Her body was moving on its own.

She flew down the stairs, two steps at a time, and ran towards the soft sound of muffled sobbing. She came to a halt right as she turned a corner, and flung herself back the way she came. Ginny had seen the backs of three girls surrounding a crumpled form, taunting, mocking, jeering.

Ginny peeked around the corner, slowy, cautiously, praying she’d go unnoticed.

That crumpled form had blonde hair, blue trim on her robes, and a freshly picked radish attached to her ear.

“Oi, Loony, it’s not very nice to run out of lunch like that. We were just being nice!” Ginny had noticed the three girls laughing uproariously at lunch but hadn’t realized they’d been staring at Luna. She had been so focused on Luna in particular that she hadn’t paid much attention to the source of the three girl’s humor.

“We were just looking over your paper for you, the one you gave us this morning, to tell you if you got anything wrong. Duh. That’s no reason to run away from us.”

“Last time you did that you… you ripped my paper up. McGonagall got mad at me. If it happens again I’ll lose points for Ravenclaw!” Luna’s voice wavered as she spoke.

“Well of _course_ we had to rip it up, Loony. You wrote all your crazy, silly, _Loony_ ideas in it, just like your Dad does in his dumb paper. Why won’t you just write normal papers!”  
  
“The fact that some animals are resistant to magic, and transfigura-.”  
  
“Loony, there’s no such things as Wrackles! They can’t be resistant to anything!”

It was the defeated way that Luna muttered “Nargles” that spurred Ginny into action.

While she’d been watching this whole encounter, she’d warred with herself.

 _It’s none of your business. You have other things to worry about. Come on, Ginny, just walk away_ said the voice that sounded a bit too much like how she had imagined Tom to sound when he was nice to her, in the beginning of last year.

 _What do you think you could do, anyways? You’re just a stupid little girl, you’d just get yourself hurt. You’d cause more harm than good if you did anything about it_ said the voice that sounded exactly like Tom did in the Chamber when she had laid down to die.

 _But she’s your friend_ said a third voice. It was so quiet, drowned out by the other two, but she grasped at it and held on for all she was worth. Maybe it was her Gryffindor courage, finally rearing its head. Maybe it was Luna’s voice, floating on the wind between tree branches in the apple orchard. If she had any kind of luck, it would be her own voice, showing her the kind of person she could grow into being.

She definitely decided to ignore whichever part of her it was that had the thought _Just be smart about it. If you’re going to hurt them, you’d better do it right._ Because Ginny couldn’t tell for the life of her if that was her own voice or Tom’s. She was afraid to think too much on it; either answer was a bad one.

“ _Flippendo”_ she muttered, aiming at the girl in the middle. That one looked like the ringleader. “ _Petrificus Totalus._ ” Ginny had looked up the Full-Body Bind after the success of her Leg-Locker Curse over the summer, and she was glad she had. She felt the magic of her Curse take effect, and smiled to herself, a smirk that creeped up her lips.

All three girls were faced away from her, so she managed to catch her target perfectly unawares. The girl in the center went flying, her glasses scattering across the floor and her blonde hair whipping around her head, and then just as suddenly her body seized up.

The other two bullies turned around in shock. Another blonde girl gave a shout of “Kim!” as the third member of their group, a redhead with a sneer on her face, glared at Ginny. Ginny walked forward, tensing her body as tight as she could to keep from shaking. It took everything she had to keep her head held high, and her eyes clear, as she looked at them. _Intimidate them. You’ve taken one of them out, now get them to back down._

“Leave Luna alone” she said, in her firmest voice.

“Look at the ickle witchie, Felicity,” the redhead said “she wants to save her girlfriend, Loony.”  
  
The other girl, apparently named Felicity, lazily waved her wand at the girl who was still Petrified on the floor, and drawled “ _Finite Incantatem._ It’s not very _brave_ of you to attack us from behind. You sure you shouldn’t be wearing silver and green?”  
  
Ginny’s mouth went dry, and her knuckles creaked as she gripped her wand tighter. She felt her eyes narrow, and moved to raise her wand against them again. She saw the girl Kim was trying to stand up from being knocked over. Ginny doubted she could fight two of them at once, and she knew for a fact she couldn’t fight three of them. _Stupid! Should have attacked them all at once!_

“ _Locomotor Mortis”_ Ginny hissed.

“ _Protego!”_

_“Expelliarmus!”_

_“Accio Wand!”_

In short succession a shield went up, and Ginny felt her wand fly out of her hand. She managed to twist her hand at the last second so it wouldn’t fly straight at the bullies, but it didn’t matter in the end. All three Ravenclaws were standing now. Even worse, they were obviously more advanced than Ginny thought - they were casting those spells with ease and confidence. Her wand took a sharp turn in mid-air and flew right into the bully’s waiting hand.

Ginny kept her head high and her lip firm as she eyed the three girls, wandless and terrified. She wouldn’t let them see how scared she was.

“Hey, Olivia, isn’t this the girl who fainted on the train like Potter?” The ringleader, Kim, said to the redhead.

“Yeah, I think it is! What was her name, again?”  
  
“She’s _obviously_ a Weasley - look at her clothes, and her hair! She sticks out like a sore thumb, with her bright red hair and shabby hand-me-downs.”

“I think her name was Gin-or-Jen-something. Virginia? Jennifer?”  
  
“Does it really matter?” The third girl, Felicity finally spoke up. “She’s sticking up for Loony - she’s obviously crazy as well!”

The three girls loomed over, imposing and menacing. They’d been slowly advancing as they spoke, and now they surrounded her. Ginny’s chest constricted as they taunted her, as their words flew in her face and stripped her down. She didn’t know if they did it on purpose, but their words cut deeper than they knew.

Olivia snapped “Ginny! Her name is Ginny! Her brothers are the Weasley twins, and I remember them talking about her at the Welcome Feast. They were _soooo_ worried about their ickle baby sister, Ginny!”

Felicity sneered at her “What were you so scared of, baby? Did the big, bad dementors make you cry? What’s a scaredy cat like you doing hexing us? There’s no way you’d be Gryffindor enough for that if our backs hadn’t been turned!

"Little baby Gin-gin, crying all the time. Fainting at dementors and casting from behind!” Kim sing-songed at her. Felicity and Olivia cackled together, an ugly grating sound against Ginny’s ears.

She felt hemmed in as the girls towered above her, larger than life. Her breathing was coming faster now, in short sharp breaths, and she could hear the thrum of her heartbeat as it picked up pace. The fear made sweat drip down her back in slow rivulets. Her memory flashed to the last time she’d been laying on the ground with an enemy peering down at her from above; Dementors. Tom. It took all her focus, but she stayed in the present. She let the bullies cutting remarks wound her deeply as she listened to every single word, tried to separate them from the sentence they were in and desensitize herself to them, in an attempt to keep herself under control.

As the taunted and jeered, the three girls blurred together until Ginny could no longer tell who said what, or who was her. She retreated into herself as they send a verbal onslaught against her, and she weathered it all, counting each word until the storm was over.

But finally, something they said broke through her haze of intense focus and control to bring her up short.

“She’s not a very good Gryffindor, is she? She’d make a much better Slytherin, always fainting, and sneaking.”

 _I’m not like Tom, I’m not like Tom, I’m not like Tom._ Ginny repeated this mantra to herself over and over, but she felt the water stinging at her eyes as she stared up at them. She looked past them, to Luna’s form on the ground. They locked eyes, and Ginny could _see_ how Luna wanted to come to her rescue. But it would just be both of them being tormented if Luna did anything to stand up for herself. Ginny pleaded with her eyes, begged Luna to just _let it go_.

Luna’s face broke, and tears welled in her friend’s eyes as well, but Luna stayed on the ground where she was.

“What’s an ickle cry baby doing standing up for someone like Loony, huh?”

“Oooh, oooh, maybe they really _are_ dating!”  
  
“Yuck, who’d want to date _Loony?_ ”

“Maybe they’re both crazy! But if they’re dating” Olivia smirked “then they should have cute nicknames for each other. Loony is Loony, obviously, because she’s nuts just like her dad. But what’s ickle Gin-gin’s name, hmm?”

“Cry baby?”

“Scaredy cat?”

“Wanna-be Slytherin?”

“No, no, no. Look at the poor thing shaking! She’s not just scared, girls, she’s _terrified!_ I bet she looked just like this when she saw the Dementor. Sitting there shaking, and quivering, and jittering.”

“That’s _IT!_ Look at little Ginny Jitters!”  
  
“Aw, come on, Jitters, don’t you like your nickname? We all know it’s true!”  
  
Cackling, mocking, jarring laughter echoed around her, and the two voices came back with a fury, they warred in her head again. She closed her eyes to try and block it out, but she couldn’t escape the voices in her head any better than she could escape the voices of her tormentors as they cornered her.

_They’re right. You’re just a scared, stupid, weak little girl. You ARE little Ginny Jitters, and you’re useless. You should just give up._

_HOW DARE THEY?! Burn them, tear them, rip them! Shred them to pieces! Pull them apart and make sure they’re never put together again! Worthless, shrieking banshees, demolish them!_

Both voices sounded just like Tom.

Both voices sounded just like her.

“ _FURNUNCULUS!”_ was the shout that accompanied a sharp, sudden burst of pain across her brow and down her cheeks.

“Don’t you ignore us, Jitters! Maybe when you look in the mirror, and see your ugly mug, it’ll remind you to pay attention when we’re talking to you!”

The three girls walked away then, giggling to each other. Leaving her there, sobbing on the ground with painful spots all across her face, like she was nothing more than trash. Her despair only a momentary diversion in the drama of their lives.

With one last wracking sob, she tore her eyes away from the three older girls as they sauntered off, and back towards Luna. They locked eyes, and Ginny crawled over to her friend. Ginny grasped Luna in her arms arms and pulled her in close for a tight hug.

It was the first hug Ginny had in over a year that didn’t leave her terrified.

“Why?!” Ginny hissed in her friend’s ear. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Luna’s voice was wasn’t strained. It wasn’t raspy from crying, it wasn’t harsh from shouting. It was as serene as ever, calming and smooth, but ever so much softer than normal as she murmured.

“I told you already; it’s nice to have a friend. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Ginny grasped her tighter, then. “Never, Luna. You’ll never lose me. Never again. I won’t let you be alone. I won’t let you handle those three alone.”  
  
“There’s more. They’re the worst, but there are so many more.”  
  
“I won’t let you handle _any_ of it alone. Okay?”

The pause was longer than Ginny would have liked.

“Okay.”


	5. Drifting

Ginny and Luna had hobbled back towards their Common Rooms before their next class and were about to part ways when Ginny clenched tightly on Luna’s arm.

“I can’t go in the Common Room. My brothers might see me like this. I-. They-. We-.” She paused for a moment to collect herself before she finished. “They can’t know this is happening.” She gestured lamely to the spots still protruding from her face, sore with a dull throbbing.

Ginny wasn’t sure why she didn’t want them to know, but she was positive that if they did it would be bad. They hadn’t looked out for her last year, and she certainly didn’t want them to start now. Her Mum would say otherwise, of course, but something deep inside her revolted at the idea of going to them for help with something so insignificant as a few school bullies when they couldn’t have been relied upon to recognize what had happened with Tom.

Maybe Ginny wanted to prove to herself that she _didn’t_ need them to look after her, to prove that the year before was just a fluke. Maybe she wanted to spite them, as if they didn’t _deserve_ to look after her because they’d failed the year before.

Whatever the reason, Ginny knew she didn’t want them involved. This was her problem now, hers and Luna’s.

“Try a _Finite?_ ” was Luna’s quick response.

Both girls tried, in vain, to vanish the pimples plaguing Ginny’s face. She sighed and allowed Luna to lead her by the hand to the library for some research in counter-curses and anti-jinxes.

In the end, they were lucky enough to only miss one class before they had countered and vanished the unsightly mess on Ginny’s face. Unfortunately, their triumph was short lived.

Their days became plagued by minor instances of bullying. Trips, falls, spilled pumpkin juice or books. Small, inconsequential things hounded them everywhere. They’d randomly break out in dance or fall prey to fits of giggles in the hallways. It was worse when they weren’t together, when they could be cornered alone, so they took to staying by each other as often as possible. They’d mostly been doing it anyways before, regardless. They had a tendency to keep to themselves, but now it was for safety as well as companionship.

They escaped their torment during the week by spending as much time in the library as they could. They always grabbed a table in plain view of the librarian Madam Pince, as she “had no time for hooligans or tom foolery in MY library!”

On the weekends, they continued their wanderings and explorations. Hogwarts was a castle designed for far more students than they currently had, and there were many unexplored and abandoned areas for them to discover.

On the positive side Ginny was getting better at keeping her eyes open, at dodging, and better at skirting the truth so her brothers didn’t find out about anything. Though she doubted if ‘better at lying’ was really such a positive, she was desperate to look at the bright side of the situation. And at least with all the dodging during the week in addition to the exploring they were doing on the weekends, Ginny was finally getting to enjoy the benefits of some of the physical exercise she’d been missing since the summer. Magic was mentally exhausting enough to help her sleep, but her body craved more action than walking to and from class would give.

After three weeks of adjustment, Ginny was comfortable enough in their new arrangement, avoiding bullies and countering curses, to bring up a potential new project for her and Luna to work on. It was something she’d fretted over since the Summer, a small idea dangling in the back of her mind. Her idea wasn’t wrong, or bad, or anything like that. It just wasn’t overly common, maybe slightly taboo. Or at least, that’s what her Mum had always said.

She waited until they were alone, in an abandoned corridor looking for a secret passage that was _supposed_ to be behind the seventh suit of armor lining the wall. Unfortunately, there were only six suits of armor in the hallway, and the two of them were beginning to run out of ideas. 

“Halloween is in a week.” Ginny broke their silence as they searched.

“Mmm, so it is. Are you dressing up?”

“Dressing-? No, Luna. Why would I be?”

“Apparently some Muggles dress up and go out to receive sweets. For _free_ , Ginny. They get sweets for _free._ ”

“Luna, the Halloween feast is supposed to have a bunch of sweets for pudding. We’ll be getting sweets anyways. We wouldn’t need to dress up.”

“Well, I suppose, but would those sweets be free?”

“Uh, maybe? I mean… you wouldn’t have to pay for them.”

“Didn’t I already pay for it by paying for the tuition?”

“We didn’t pay for the tuition, our parents did. Which makes it free for us?”

Luna let out a large, overbearing sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”

Ginny just rolled her eyes and didn’t even try to stop her lips from curling up. “But that’s beside the point. I brought it up because, I, uh, well.” Ginny paused. She couldn’t figure out the way to come out and just _say_ what she wanted to say.

The roundabout way might work. 

“Did I tell you about our first day in Egypt?” As normal, Luna didn’t even bat an eye at the apparent pivot in the conversation. They were both used to it; every conversation they had together ran like a stream, meandering and curving, and occasionally there would be a fork and they’d go down an offshoot before meeting up again to the general current.

“I don’t think so? I imagine it was unbearably hot. Did you see any Heliopaths?”

“No, I wasn’t looking for any. But, I did see a traditional Solstice ritual performed.”

“Oh? Was it fascinating? Was it done in customary garb? Who performed it?”

“It was performed at Dendera. We-,”

Ginny paused as she felt Luna’s hand grasp her arm, just shy of uncomfortably tight, and she noticed how wide Luna’s eyes had gotten.

“Was it wonderful?” Luna breathed. She leaned forwards and her eyes shone bright. “It’s supposed to be nearly impossible to get in. I’ve even heard that they have people who still _follow_ the religion perform the ceremonies.”

Ginny heaved a sigh of relief. Luna’s obvious interest made her feel so much better, and far more secure in her request. She doubted Luna would be like Percy or her Mum, but she’d still had that lingering fear skulking about.

“It was one of the best things I’ve ever witnessed.” Ginny spoke softly, but with surety. “And I-. Well, I was thinking that-. I just thought-.”

Luna stared at her, wide eyed and patient. Ginny took a deep breath. It was a simple question; why couldn’t she do this?!

_Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s Luna. You trust her._

“Would you like to hold a ritual for Samhain with me, after the feast on Halloween?”

Ginny held her breath, and wouldn’t look up at Luna, staring resolutely at the floor between them. Relief washed over her as she heard the smile in Luna’s voice when she responded, “I would love to.”  
  
They retreated back the way they came, trying to find if there had been a mistake in their directions, as their conversation retreated back into silence.

The smile on Luna’s lips was full and bright enough that Ginny read it with ease. _I really love having a friend._

Ginny’s bump into Luna’s shoulder gave her own message loud and clear as well. _Me too._  

* * *

Alas, it wasn’t to be.

They spent all their time in the library the following week doing research for the ritual. Books upon manuscripts upon scrolls of different cultural rituals, their uses and meanings, and the historic meaning of Halloween, or Samhain, filled their every waking hour.

Ginny’s head felt bloated from all the information, but it felt surprisingly good to be studying something she was interested in for a reason other than classes or homework. She hadn’t been sure that this would even be something she would really want to do, but she just couldn’t get the beauty, the majesty, of that ritual in Egypt out of her mind. The closer they drew to Halloween, the more information they learned about the how and why of seasonal or holiday rituals, the more sure she became.

The halls of Hogwarts seemed to only be getting darker and more foreboding as the year went on. A storm had begun to brew, as nasty as any roiling potion, quite literally right outside the castle, and hadn’t broken since it began. Ginny could nearly _feel_ the chill creeping in through the walls from the veritable _army_ of dementors she just knew was lurking beyond the grounds.

It was for that reason that they decided in short form to practice one of the Bonfire Rituals of Celtic origins that was designed to repel evil spirits. It was difficult to find actual examples of this, as most of the books on rituals were in the Restricted Section. They had to resort to searching history books and books for other subjects that alluded to rituals; often times the examples provided gave just enough information to be useful. They were lucky enough to find one after three days of dedicated searching and ignoring homework.

By Friday night everything was complete. They had found a room, gathered their materials, and then spent all of Saturday running through the motions, practicing, memorizing. They resigned themselves to being incredibly tired on Monday and went to sleep giddy.

They spent Sunday, October 31st, Halloween, Samhain, The Big Day together. Last minute practice in the morning, and then relaxing the rest of the day.

The Great Hall was decorated with wanton disregard for any sense of good taste. Orange and black streamers were strung haphazardly and covered up most of the ceiling. Floating pumpkins swirled about the room, lazing in between the drifting candles. The Bloody Baron seemed to be taking great delight in scaring all of the First and Second years as often as possible.

Ginny and Luna ignored it all and kept making eye contact throughout the feast. Ginny was worried the girls sitting around her would hear her heart hammering in her chest, she was so nervous. Although she did let out a huge guffaw at the look on Luna’s face as all the tables were filled with piles upon piles of sweets.

All their plans were ruined, though, as Ginny headed up to her Common Room after the feast. Long scratch marks tore across the portrait of the Fat Lady, from frame to frame, and she could hear sobbing in the distance. A large group of her fellow Gryffindors surrounded the portrait, all the students clustered together, clamoring for any information on what had happened to their beloved guardian.

Ginny’s heartbeat thrummed through her body, and the words spoken around her blurred together as her ears felt full. This was an attack. Something had _attacked_ the Fat Lady, and the Professor’s didn’t know what, or who, or why. She felt her body tense, and the sweat pool on her back; her fingers tightened around her wand and her jaw clenched as her eyes swiveled back and forth.

All it took was two simple words to break her out of her stupor. It was two words that struck at her heart, they could have been shouted or whispered, Ginny didn’t know. She wasn’t sure who had spoken them; the Fat Lady, a student, the professors. They were the only two words that penetrated Ginny’s fugue, and they shot a spike of icy fear straight through her soul.

“Sirius Black!”

* * *

If Ginny had thought that the appearance of Sirius Black would give her a reprieve, she was only partly right.

The bullies did manage to leave Ginny and Luna alone for about two whole days, a new record since the bullying began in earnest, after the news broke that Black had managed to infiltrate Hogwarts. But after those two days, the bullying picked up worse than before. It was possible that the bullies were attempting to prove they weren’t afraid of Sirius Black by picking on them. Maybe the bullies were just trying to distract themselves.

It didn’t matter why, in the end. All that mattered was that the minor hexes and jinxes in the hallway were more frequent, and more vicious.

Ginny and Luna took it all in stride. They had each other, and that was enough. No amount of tripping, or bruises, or missing papers could get them to back down. Ginny took any opportunity she could find to fire off hexes or jinxes of her own back at the bullies, but it wasn’t easy. The bullies were older, smarter, and faster than her. Stronger, with more power in their jinxes and an easier time countering Ginny’s spells. Nevertheless, she persevered.

Ginny and Luna had debated at length whether they would attend the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch match (previously Slytherin, until poor injured Draco Malfoy needed ‘extra recovery time’). Surprisingly, it was Ginny who was adamantly against it, and Luna who argued that they should attend. Years ago, their roles had been reversed as Ginny had tried to play “Quidditch” in the yard growing up, while Luna had wanted to play “Snorkack Hunters Extraordinaire.”

But Ginny, much as she loved flying, loved Quidditch less than she used to. It wasn’t the focal point of her life any longer, and it certainly wasn’t her lifelong goal to become a famous Quidditch player. She didn’t know what she wanted to do anymore, but she doubted she could muster up enough effort to care about Quidditch.

She missed flying, desperately, but didn’t want to fly just to try and win some silly game. After her experiences the year before, Quidditch just seemed so... unimportant.

As usual, Luna won their argument through a series of twisting and turning logic that Ginny couldn’t quite follow the next day when she reconsidered it.

The cold of the air as they sat in the stands was only marginally cut down by their huge woolen scarves, jumpers, and jackets. Ginny resolved herself to learning a Warming Charm as quickly as possible, so as to not _die of hypothermia_ every time Luna dragged her to one of these games. Ginny hated the cold.

She was surprised to find, about halfway through the game, that she was indeed having more fun than she expected. She and Luna shouted their heads off for Gryffindor, Luna wore Gryffindor colors, and everything was going well.

Ginny’s face was bright red, from laughing just as much as from the biting wind.

It changed in the blink of an eye. The world went from crazy, and uproarious, and madly phenomenal to hectic, and panicked, and insanely terrifying. Dementors, dark floating specters of death and despair, creeped towards the pitch, but were noticed too late. Frost covered and killed the grass beneath their tattered robe-like appearance, the storm clouds darkened and thickened in the skies above, and screams tore through the stands as children wailed in terror.

_I’ve missed you, Ginny_ the sibilant hiss ran up her spine. _Don’t you miss me? You know we made such a good team. Just lissssten to me, Ginny, and I can help you with your little bullying problem._

Ginny reached out and grasped Luna’s arm tight, and she didn’t know if Luna’s whimper was from the force of her grip or the Dementor’s drawing near.

In the moment, she didn’t really care.

_Weak, stupid, useless little girl._

_They’re right, I’m nothing more than Ickle Ginny Jitters._

_You should just let yourself go, Ginny. You don’t deserve to keep on living; you needed someone to save you. You should have died in that Chamber. You were barely good enough to be a sacrifice to bring me back, and look at what you’ve done since you escaped me. You couldn’t even save your little friend Luna from her bullies - you just got yourself bullied instead!_

Ginny felt hot tears rush down her face as the world around her faded, darkness creeping in. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard someone shout her name right as everything slipped away. 

* * *

Ginny was coming to hate the hospital wing. It was, very likely, her least favorite place in Hogwarts.

Well, second least favorite.

But the point remained the same! Waking up to too bright light, and the sharp pungent odor of flowers and disinfectant was unsettling. As she was finally released, with the order to eat more chocolate and mumbling from Madame Pomfrey about “irresponsible, idiotic bureaucrats,” Ginny went back to her life.

She wanted to feel like nothing had changed. She wanted to act as though life was back to normal, or at least the sad approximate of normal that she and Luna had cobbled together. Sadly, she couldn’t. In the span of one week, she had been harshly reminded that most of the problems she had been worrying about were, in the grand scheme of things, rather pointless.

Dementors on the grounds. Madmen on the loose. An unsecure school.

Yes, bullies were the least of her problems.

But, they were the only problem she could feasibly deal with. Keeping their attention divided so that they weren’t solely targeting Luna was about the only thing she could do that made her feel like she was making a difference, the only thing that made her feel useful, so she kept at it.

Until one day in early December, they upped the ante. She awoke that morning as she always did, with a flick of her wrist to dispel her Silencing Charm. She showered, and dressed, and got ready for breakfast.  b

But her shoes were missing.

At first, she was sure she’d just misplaced them. She ignored the niggling doubt that the bullies had stolen them; they weren’t allowed in the Gryffindor Common Room. It wasn’t _possible_ that they had stolen them!

But as the allotted time for breakfast came and went, and her first class neared closer and closer, she had to give up. So she ran through the hallways at a breakneck speed, socks smacking against the cold stone floor, and rushed into Transfiguration just in time. Professor McGonagall gave her a dirty look but started the lesson as normal.

The lesson was boring. Ginny didn’t much care about the different things which affected what made a certain transfiguration easier or harder to accomplish. Symbolism, Similarities, Animate/Inanimate. Her only concern with all that was knowing it well enough to pass her exam and get an O on her paper. But it was one of the classes she put the most effort into, if only because it was one she knew Tom hadn't enjoyed. It was just a small thing to remind her she was different from him.

It was harder to concentrate than normal, though. Her feet were cold. The class couldn’t end soon enough. Just as she was packing to leave, however, she heard Professor McGonagall call out.

“Ms. Weasley, a word before you leave?”

Ginny finished packing and padded over to the Deputy Headmistress’s desk. The soft padding of her feet against the stone floor was much louder than she’d have liked it to be. She’d have thought walking in socks would be harder to hear, and it was quieter than her shoes, but the difference in noise was startling and attention grabbing. She firmly did not glance at her shoeless feet, even once.

“Would you care to tell me why you chose the coldest day we’ve had all term to forgo a rather important part of your uniform?”

“I couldn’t find my shoes this morning, Ma’am.”

McGonagall’s expression was pinched, and Ginny was torn. She both desperately wanted to spill all her secrets, to let McGonagall know about the bullying, about her and Luna, about Kim, Felicity, and Olivia, and just about _everything._

But another part of her viciously knocked that idea away. _Why hasn’t she seen it already? It’s been nearly two months, and she hasn’t noticed even once!_

“All parts of the uniform are a requirement for students. Not adhering to dress code is an offense I could take points for, Ms. Weasley.” Ginny’s spine straightened, and her jaw creaked.

Conversely, Professor McGonagall’s face softened. “Also, I wouldn’t want you to come down with anything. As it gets colder, forgetting your shoes or other items of the uniform behind may adversely affect your health. I’m your Head of House; I want you to be able to come to me. I care about your health and wellbeing.”

And that was enough - proof that a teacher was paying attention and that they _cared._ Even if it was two months late, it was enough to make her consider spilling everything. The words sat on the tip of her tongue, bursting to get out, when McGonagall continued.

“Is it Ms. Lovegood? I know you’ve been spending more time around her this year than last, and she’s always been something of an… odd girl. You don’t need to copy her or pick up her bad habits. Much as I’m glad she’s got a friend, if you’re picking up her peculiarities you might be better finding friends within the girls of your own house?”

Ginny’s knuckles strained as she gripped her wand. The words which had just a moment ago been ready to slip out were sucked back in and put once again under lock and key.

“Even if you did merely misplace your shoes, the girls in your dorm have said that you spend most weekends missing from the Common Room, spending time with Ms. Lovegood. You should really consider branching out. I know Ms. Marigold was asking after you, specifically, last weekend. She was wondering if you wanted to talk about the upcoming Quidditch game.”

It was as though someone had cast a Freezing Charm on the veins in Ginny’s body. Her blood froze solid and chilled her to her core. It was an odd feeling, this cold fury, so unlike any anger she’d felt before. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips barely moved as she whispered back to McGonagall.  
  
“My shoes have not been misplaced, Professor. And I did not leave them behind. They were _stolen_. My only pair of shoes, taken from me. The only person who could’ve done it was a fellow Gryffindor. Must have been a girl, too, as I leave my shoes in the same spot, by my bed, every time I take them off. So, no. I don’t see myself spending time with potential _thieves_ anytime soon. Luna has never stolen any of my things, you see.”

McGonagall’s face turned a rather frightening shade of reddish purple, and her lips pursed and thinned considerably.   
  
“25 points from Gryffindor for disrespect. 5 from Gryffindor for a failure to adhere to the dress code. An additional 5 for every day you fail to do so.”

Ginny merely turned on her shoeless heels and stormed out of the classroom. If the Professors didn’t want to help her, then that was fine by her. She didn’t have any help the year before with Tom, and she didn’t need any help now.

She staunchly ignored the voice inside her head reminding her that she had needed to be saved the year before. That she hadn’t been strong enough, powerful enough, good enough.

As every class went by, Ginny’s anger froze to a deeper and lower temperature. She’d never enjoyed the feeling of being cold, not since the Chamber, and she certainly didn’t enjoy this cold fury. It became more and more uncomfortable the greater it became. But it was far better than feeling afraid of the cold. With every teacher who didn’t stop her to ask about her lack of shoes, every trip she experienced, every call of “Look, Jitters lost her shoes! Now we won’t know if she’s jittery because she’s scared or because she’s cold!”, with every moment that passed. Ginny became more and more furious.

Luna’s response was merely a morose “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize Gryffindor had a nest of Nargles lying about in the tower.”

“Neither did I, Luna. Neither did I.”

That night, she went to every floor of the Girl’s Dormitories, and issued the same monotone message.

“If one of you took my shoes, I need them back. I don’t know what Felicity, Olivia, and Kim did to get you to steal them, but because you stole them, we lost 30 points today. And I’ll lose at least 5 more every day you don’t have them returned. I don’t mind walking around in socks, and I could care less about points at the moment. But I thought you might. So just let me know where they are, and all’s forgiven, yeah? Yeah. Brilliant.”

The next morning, before breakfast, there was a note sat primly atop her trunk telling her where on the third floor her shoes had been stashed.

She skipped breakfast to retrieve them, using a Levitation Charm to bring them down from their high up hiding space.

They’d poured pumpkin juice in her shoes, likely the day before, and they still were wet and incredibly sticky.

Ginny muttered a quick _Scourgify_ and vowed to get better at the Cleaning Charm if this was going to be a common occurrence. Along with the Warming Charm to keep warm, and all the other small bits of convenient magic she always felt her hand moving to cast., before realizing she didn’t _actually_ know the spell. Her “to-do” list was getting quite long.

The shoes still squished slightly with each step.

_Only a few weeks left until we get a break_ she thought to herself. _We can handle just a few weeks_.

* * *

The last weekend before the Christmas Break was a Hogsmeade Weekend. Ginny and Luna weren’t allowed to go, obviously, but Ginny had managed to badger Fred and George into agreeing to getting her a few sweets. That mostly meant that she had given them a few of her Galleons still stashed away from her summer work and told them to bring her some sweets and keep the change.

As a result, Ginny and Luna had decided to spend some time out on the grounds, enjoying the snow. It wasn’t a pretty day out, by any means, still overcast and stormy. But the snow was pristine, and the girls were tired of the dank halls of the castle. They weren’t allowed to enjoy as much of the grounds as normal, with a large part of it being patrolled by Dementors, but the foul creatures tended to stay mostly near the Forbidden Forest. It gave them plenty of safe room to stroll on a bright sunny day.

Luna, thankfully, had managed to get a semblance of a Warming Charm to work well enough that they could enjoy their walk. Combined with Ginny’s, they were quite comfortable. They only paid partial attention to the road leading from the village to the castle, which was why they didn’t notice as a spell came hurtling at them.

Ginny felt her legs trip, the way they always did when she got hit with the Tripping Jinx, but she wasn’t expecting it like she did in the hallways. In the hallways, she was on edge and her trips only made her stumble. Instead, she went flying forwards and fell flat on her face into the snow. She heard a light _thump_ as Luna fell right after her.

“Oi! Jitters and Loony! We got a bone to pick with you!” Came the nasal sound of Kim’s voice.

Ginny swore under her breath as she felt her Warming Charm fade, and her clothes become cold in addition to being soaked through. This was going to be terrible.

“What do you want, Kim?” Ginny had thought, for a while, to try and retaliate by giving the three girls stupid nicknames of their own, but that had quickly turned out to be a very, _very_ bad idea. It turned out that Kim hadn’t enjoyed being called ‘Ickle-Kimmy-Pimples.’ After that, the Pimple Jinx had become a favorite of Kim’s, and it had taken Ginny six castings of the Anti-Jinx to undo the one she received that day.

“We saw you handing over some Galleons to your brothers. We figured you probably had some extra to spare for your favorite upperclassmen, don’t you Jitters?”

“Come on, Jitters, we know you probably stole it to begin with. Your family is too poor to afford giving any of you an allowance, never mind ALL of you. So give us what you’ve got, and we’ll make sure not to rat you out!”

“See what good friends we are?” Olivia piped up. Felicity just scowled as the other two bantered; she was the least talkative, and the most violent of the group.

“I didn’t steal it! And anyways, I gave them all of what I had. So just leave us alone!”

As always, Luna stayed out of the way and didn’t speak up. She always apologized afterwards, but Ginny continued to brush her apologies away. Luna had had to endure a whole _year_ of bullying alone. Ginny knew what it felt like to be alone and refused to let it happen to Luna.

Also, in the deepest part of her soul, Ginny would admit to herself that she rather liked being the one doing the _saving_ rather than being the one who got _saved_. Even if she wasn’t all that good at the saving bit, based on the fact they were still both being harassed.

None of that mattered to the bullies though.

“Of course you didn’t, Jitters! You’d be too scared to steal anything. Look at you, you’re even shaking now just talking to us!” Kim pointed out

Which of course had nothing to do with the wet clothes, or the biting cold seeping into her due to a failed Warming Charm.

“It was probably Loony that stole the money. She’s so crazy she probably - _Expelliarmus!”_ Olivia’s wand whipped out and flashed towards Luna. Ginny snapped her neck to look and saw that Luna’s arm and wand had been raised. It was the first time Luna had ever dared to fight back.

“ _Tsk tsk,_ Loony, you should know better. I think she needs to be reminded of her place, don’t you, girls?” The evil looks on their faces didn’t inspire confidence in Ginny, but what worried her more was the fact that the three girls didn’t shout the same incantations.

_“Stimula!”_

_“Stimula!”_

_“Diffindo!”_

Ginny heard the harsh sound of the Severing Charm being sent underneath the shouts of two Stinging Hexes. Her eyes went wide, and she dove as fast and as hard as she could to intercept the spells aimed at Luna.

Pain _blossomed_ across her chest and shoulder. She wanted to let out a scream or a yelp, but she bit her lip and did everything in her power to swallow it. She could feel something warm dripping down her shoulder. She couldn’t tell if the throbbing on her chest were the spots where she’d been stung by the two Stinging Hexes, or the throbbing of her heart as it pumped blood through her veins only to drip down her arm.

She looked up at Luna, who stared down at her wide eyed and frozen in shock. She turned her head to stare at the three older girls, ignoring the sharp twinge it sent down her shoulder. The one girl who’d sent the spell, Felicity, was staring at her with an unreadable expression on her face. The other two girls kept frantically looking between Ginny and Felicity, stunned speechless with mouths agape, horrified. She made eye contact with each of them one after another.

“This changes everything.” Were the only words Ginny said, before she let her head fall back into Luna’s lap, and watched the clouds slowly roil above her. Her blood dripped onto the ground, and the scarlet drops painted rivers down the white canyons of the snow. She felt disconnected from herself, but distantly felt the sharp sting of her arm contrast the throbbing uncomfort of her two growing welts.

She listened, faintly, as the bullies ran back to the castle, and she closed her eyes. She felt Luna wrap her arms around her, holding her tightly, and tried very hard to convince herself that the hot tears streaming down her face were Luna’s, and not her own.

* * *

Ginny was only thankful she hadn’t woken up in a hospital bed. Luna had forced her to go see Madame Pomfrey about her shoulder, though, and the medi-witch hadn’t taken the excuse of “ran into a suit of armor, you know, the one with the giant sword and spikes on its shield?” very well.

Luna had grasped Ginny’s hand tightly and made her promise that they’d meet up later that evening, after curfew, in one of the abandoned classrooms they had found. Ginny had no problem promising something so easy, and sneaking out was only marginally more difficult. She grumbled all the way there, stepping quietly and checking corners twice, wishing she had an invisibility cloak like the one she’d heard Ron mention he’d used with Harry and Hermione.

After long minutes of sneaking, which had felt like hours, Ginny slipped into the room to see Luna already sitting there, leaned up against a window and staring at the stars. No lights were on, and Luna’s hair was reflected in the faint light of the growing moon.

“You know my Mum died.” Luna spoke into the darkness, before Ginny even had a chance to say hello.

Ginny didn’t respond. Luna’s voice was softer than normal, devoid of any of her normal curiosity or joy, inflectionless. Ginny didn’t trust herself to speak.

“I saw it. My Dad doesn’t know that I was there. It was a spell gone wrong, they say. That without the shield she’d put up, the explosive spellfire wouldn’t have been fatal. It kept the spellfire contained, you see, and all the magical backlash was amplified by not being able to disperse. It might have ruined our basement a bit, but it certainly wouldn’t have killed her. That’s what all the Healers said, anyways.” Luna paused, and took a shuddering breath, louder than any word she’d spoken since Ginny entered.  
  
“But Mum was brilliant, you know. Everyone says so. She must have known how bad the reaction was going to be, or rather how bad it _wouldn’t_ be. She was smart like that. It always boggled the Aurors that came to ask questions about it. ‘Why would she put up a shield? She must have known it’d only make it worse.’ I’d hear them whispering about it to each other when they didn’t realize I could hear them.”

She paused again, for a moment or an hour, Ginny wasn’t sure. However long it was, Ginny held her breath the whole while, made not a peep. Luna was sharing something special, and precious, and Ginny refused to interrupt it.

“I wasn’t supposed to be in the lab with her. I just didn’t want to be alone and Daddy was off on a meeting for the paper. I wasn’t. Supposed. To be. There. But I was bored, and lonely, and I-. And my Mum loved me.”

That admittance caused Luna’s voice to break, for the first time leaving the dead monotone that was so unlike her, and Ginny desperately wanted to step forwards. Wanted to hold Luna, wrap her up in her arms, and tell her it would all be okay. But her feet were stuck to the floor, as though by the most powerful Sticking Charm in existence. So instead she stared, kept her lips shut, and waited.

“She threw up the shield for me. It was a split-second decision. I did some research, last year when we got to Hogwarts, going over old copies of the Daily Prophet to find the article on it, then reading as many books as I could. I don’t understand everything, but I know for sure I wouldn’t have survived. I was so young; the explosion might have actually done quite a bit of damage to me. I’d likely not have survived, even though she would have. If I had survived, I’d have endured life-threatening damage, of a permanent nature, to both my body and my magic. I’m not sure which idea scared my Mum more, but in that moment,  she had to make the decision.”

That was what broke Ginny. The casual way that Luna discussed her own demise. As though she’d agonized over it, contemplated it, wondered if it was what her Mum would have hoped for or feared of in that moment. As though she’d wished it had happened. The longing mixed with a terrible, visceral fear. Ginny clenched her hands as she realized that, more than anyone else, Luna could understand, at least in part, what Ginny had experienced.

Ginny felt a yearning, a longing, to talk to Luna about her own experiences, but felt it only for a moment before she mercilessly quashed the thought.

How selfish. How small. How petty. Luna needed her, and Ginny needed to let go of her own problems for one Merlin-forsaken minute to help her only friend.

“My Mum’s dead, and it’s mostly my fault. If I hadn’t been there, everything would have been fine. But I was selfish. I was silly. I was useless. I _am_ useless. And I know that they’re right; I’m at least a little bit Loony. So, you don’t need to stand up for me; I’m not worth it. It’s okay. I don’t want you to get hurt for me either.”

Luna turned, and she looked like she’d melt away into the moonlight, ethereal hair floating between the stars and bright eyes that matched the moon.

She looked like just a light touch would shatter her, so Ginny didn’t even consider running to hug her or hold her like she wanted to. Instead, she whispered the only words she knew she could say with confidence in that moment.

“You are worth it. You’re worth it to me.” It came out as a whisper, only just barely there.

Luna didn’t react, didn’t move, didn’t even seem to register. Ginny nearly thought she’d spoken it too quietly to hear. Right as Ginny was considering repeating herself, Luna spoke up again.

“What about you?” Her words punched Ginny in the gut, cut her fiercer and deeper than Felicity’s Severing Charm ever could.

“I-.” Ginny licked her too dry tips and swallowed. “Last year-.” Deep breath. In. Out.

Luna just stared, and it calmed Ginny slightly. No judgement, no prying too deep. Just the facts. Luna wasn’t going to care. They’d still be friends.

She hoped.

“I found a Dark Artifact. It was… It belonged to a boy named Tom. He was nice. Kind. Sweet.” Ginny didn’t want to admit the next words but felt an intense desire to tell the truth, at least to Luna.

“He was my friend.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“He was Voldemort.”

Luna didn’t gasp. She didn’t jump, didn’t startle, didn’t react. She only blinked a little faster as she readjusted to that burst of spellfire Ginny had dropped on her.

“He talked back to me, through my diary, and he started getting into my head. It was just so lonely for me here, and it was hard for me to make new friends with anyone except for him. But he was always there, and always willing to listen, and always so helpful. Or, he started out that way.

“He made me open the Chamber of Secrets last year. I don’t remember all of it, have gaps in my memory, but I remember enough. He made me try and kill all those people. I wasn’t strong enough to stop him. Wasn’t strong enough to stand against him. Wasn’t strong enough to not crave his attention, and his affection, and his kind words.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“He took me into the Chamber at the end of the year and told me. Told me how he used me, how useless I was, how he hated every minute he had to talk to me. He started sucking my life, my soul from my very body. Tried to fuel his resurrection with my death. I don’t know that for sure, mind, but that’s what it felt like. It’s the only explanation I’ve come up with that makes any real sense. Why else would he spend so much time with me?”

Luna’s eyes were hard as flint, daring her to keep speaking. Refusing to let her stop.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“I gave up. I let him win. I was going to die. Then Harry came and saved me. My only happy thought as I lay dying was that at least I wasn’t hurting anybody else, that my death was worth it if I was the only person who ended up dead. When Harry appeared, though, when even my death wouldn’t stop me from ruining everything, it nearly broke me. And in that moment, I desperately wanted nothing more than to not die, if only so I could have a chance to try and fix it, fix all of it, every single thing I had messed up. But in the end, I wasn’t strong enough to save myself.”

The silence hung between them, a palpable thing, like the darkness between the stars.

Ginny couldn’t say how long it lasted. Like at first, it was Luna’s lilting voice that cracked the hushed room.

“I have an idea.” she murmured, as she pulled out a book with a bookmark in it from her bag a few feet away. She opened the book to the marked page, and turned it around, handing it to Ginny. Ginny looked down in confusion. As she recognized the book, her confusion only deepened; what idea could Luna get from one of the many books they’d used to research different magical holidays that fell on Samhain, and their historic relevance?

She peered at Luna, waiting for an answer, who just gave an agitated tap to a specific annotation on the page she had opened to.

_It should be noted that there are many different types of bonds or connections that may be created between two wizards, or perhaps between more than two. Unbreakable Vows are some of the deadliest of these, but all bonds carry within them an inherent chance of danger, as it ties the life of one wizard to another. Even something as simple as a blood-brotherhood ritual, of which there are many variations from so many cultures, could be dangerous. This is not to discount the danger of bindings between wizards and other inanimate objects, such as magical contracts, but-_

Ginny stopped reading then and looked up at Luna. Was she suggesting what Ginny thought she was?

Luna’s expression was guarded, as she confirmed Ginny’s thoughts “Are you interested in forming a blood pact?”


	6. Hover (Christmas Interlude)

Hermione sighed as she settled down into the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room on Christmas morning. She had worked tirelessly to ensure that she would have all of her holiday homework completed by Christmas morning. Her goal in this was to be able to take a bloody _break_ over the holiday. She had been sure that she’d be able to handle the additional pressures of taking so many classes in one year.

It was just her luck that the way the schedule had worked out this year meant she physically _couldn’t_ take all the classes. At first, the Time Turner had seemed like such an honor. Now, less than half of the way through the school year, she was already prepared to get rid of the ruddy thing! Her life was so hectic that not even her tightly managed and portioned out class/study schedule could keep everything under control.

It was with all this in mind that Hermione had decided to take the Christmas Hols for herself. She had spent her first few days feverishly completing all of her homework, and now the rest of the time was hers and hers alone. Even when her boys frantically worked to complete their own Holiday homework in the last few days of break, as she knew they would, she would be able to sit and relax, doling out advice with little additional stress.

Honestly, she needed the break.

Hermione had been tempted, oh so very tempted, to use the Time Turner to extend her holiday as long as possible. Truthfully, she was still tempted to do it, fingers lightly tracing it’s outline underneath her shirt. But she held firm; she didn’t want to forget what the regular length of a day felt like.

So it was that she came downstairs on Christmas morning to a very festively decorated Common Room, and for the first time all school year felt very relaxed. Her mound of presents was, in her opinion, rather modest. But she was still quite excited by the prospect of new gifts. Her parents had teased her endlessly when she’d asked to stay at school for the holiday, poking fun at how “adult” she was, being nearly 14 now, and how “adults didn’t get overly many presents at Christmas, darling.”

She did miss them terribly, but she’d rather stay at Hogwarts with her friends than visit a boring dentistry convention disguised as a Christmas Holiday in France. They’d spent a wonderful summer there, but the conference they’d been invited to after an accidental meeting one night at dinner the previous summer was not quite Hermione’s cup of tea.

But regardless of their teasing, Hermione saw her parents had still sent her a number of presents. She eyed a few of the thicker ones with relish; those were quite possibly some of the books she’d not so subtly hinted at in Flourish and Blotts.

“Happy Christmas!” She greeted the Weasley’s and Harry as she came down. An out of sync chorus of “Happy Christmas, Hermione” greeted her back. Everyone had mostly already gotten themselves settled; Hermione had been in no rush to head down, thoroughly prepared to follow through on her mission to relax.

With her arrival, there was an unspoken signal that Christmas morning could begin; presents were hoarded, wrapping was shredded, and thanks were given. All around, everyone had a pleasant morning.

This all changed the moment Ginny screamed bloody murder, letting out an ear splitting, unholy shriek of pure terror. Hermione turned in time to see her chuck something straight at a wall with a very solid _thump_ and race up the stairs, presumably to her dormitory.

Everyone sat in the silence, staring at each other. As the silence verged away from communal confusion and into uncomfortable stillness, Hermione decided to break it.

“Is she alright? What just happened?”

The redheaded brothers all looked at each other, and it was Percy who finally spoke up.

“Ginny had a… difficult summer. We’d thought she was over it. She’d been doing much better by the end of it, and she hasn’t had any problems now that we’re back at school.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. _Boys,_ she thought _are sometimes so blind._

She first grabbed the thrown object, a rather nice leather notebook. She rifled through the pages and found them blank; a diary then. Not cause for concern on its own, but something niggled at the back of mind.

She then reached over for where an envelope sat unopened, attached to shredded wrapping paper. It was rather rude to read someone else’s letters, but desperate times and all that.

_Dear Ginny,_

_Happy Christmas! We know we didn’t do this last year, and we didn’t want to bring it up this year because we wanted it to be a surprise! So don’t feel bad if you didn’t get us any gifts, or anything. Besides we all chipped in for this! We noticed that you spent a lot of time with your diary last year, but this year you didn’t even have it! We wondered if you filled it up, or maybe had lost it, so we got you a fresh one! We hope you like it, and we should all hang out sometime soon! We know you’re close with Loony, but it’s good to have lots of friends, right?_

_Anyways, Happy Christmas again!_

_From,_

_The Gryffindor Girls_

_Gemma Nelson_

_Sam Bailey_

_Claire Foster_

_Laura  Hobbs_

_P.S. Sam wanted to write “From, Your Roommates, but Gryffindor Girls sounds so good!”_

Hermione looked up after reading it a second time. Well, that was nearly no help at all!

She held up the book so the boys could see. “Any idea why this would make Ginny upset?”

Surprisingly, it was Harry of all people who flinched. “That looks almost exactly like the diary she had last year. The one that, uh, you know…” He trailed off and looked around at the Weasley brothers.

Fred scoffed. “Almost killed her? And the rest of the school?”

Harry just nodded and shrugged.

Oh. _That_ was where she had seen it before. Harry and Ron had informed her of what all had happened very briefly before the end of the last year after she’d woken up. This diary was nearly identical to the one from last year, at least at first glance. Harry had held onto it for a short period of time, though how it had passed hands back and forth was never explained.

None of the boys seemed to be doing anything even remotely productive, so she sighed and resigned herself to her task. “I’ll go check on her, then. I’ll be right back.”

She rushed up the stairs, and barged into the Second Year girl’s dormitory, anticipating a sobbing girl. Or at the very least, some smothered sniffles.

Instead, she was greeted by total and almost eerie silence.

It took her a moment to determine what, exactly, was happening and where Ginny might have gone. She noticed one of the beds had curtains shut closed. Every other bed was immaculately made. She wanted to march over and open up the curtains. She wanted to grab the girl up in her arms, and tell her it would all be alright.

And honestly, a tiny part of her thought _What in the world do you have to cry about?! You weren’t the one who was petrified!_

It was the very clear memory of a flash of red hair as she saw sickly yellow eyes through her handheld mirror the year before that was nearly enough to overwhelm her resolve.

But she reminded herself that even though she was petrified, she hadn’t had Voldemort stuck in her head for a year. Also, she hadn’t faced down an absolutely astonishingly large basilisk (if Harry’s accuracy in relating stories was to be trusted), while her only friend betrayed her.

So really, Ginny did have quite a bit to be crying about. Hermione supposed it was just so hard to remember that, when Ginny seemed to unaffected by it most of the time. She stared longingly one last time at the curtains. She hadn’t even known Ginny could cast a Silencing Charm. Hermione itched to Dispel it, but firmly turned herself around marched back to the Common Room.

Five sets of eyes stared at her, expectantly, as she returned empty handed.

“Ginny just needs a bit of time to process it. Having it all brought up so suddenly and unexpectedly was just a bit much for her. She’ll be fine.”

Hermione put on a bright smile and watched as all the boys went back to their own presents and Christmas with a bit less cheer. She was just glad none of them had heard the left off ‘ _I hope’_ at the end of her reassurances.

* * *

Thankfully, Ginny did seem to get through her ordeal on her own. She ended up being well enough to attend dinner later that evening.

Sadly, Hermione’s life was crumbling around her by the time that happened. At breakfast, a package had flown in with the mail, headed straight for Harry. It was easy enough to tell what it was based on its shape. Harry was getting a new broom. Hermione hadn’t realized Harry had ordered a new one or that, like with his old Nimbus, Professor McGonagall had ordered one for him.

But it was with dawning horror that Hermione realized Harry _wasn’t expecting this gift._ For some unknown reason, Hermione also seemed to be the only person in this whole castle capable of remembering that there was a mass _murderer_ on the loose who specifically wanted to _kill Harry._ Hermione was briefly pleased at further vindication of her heartfelt belief that Quidditch addled the brains of anyone who played it, was interested in it, or even heard about it too often.

Her day continued to spiral downwards as she failed, again and again, to get the two boys to listen to reason. Why couldn’t they see that it was possibly a trap? She wasn’t hating on Quidditch! She wasn’t just being a nag, or a bookworm, or a million other names that she had been _sure_ she’d left behind after her first year at Hogwarts.

Each of those names, each insult Ron flung at her during their argument, they were like individual cuts, slicing into her skin. She could handle any one of them, but all of them? She wondered how long she would last.

Hermione resolved herself that even if it killed her, emotionally at least, she would save her friend. So it was with a heavy heart that she went to Professor McGonagall and explained the whole situation.

The Professors came during lunch and confiscated the broom, promising to return it once they had fully determined if it was curse and tamper free. The betrayed look on Harry’s face hurt a thousand times more than the hate filled glare that Ron sent her. Couldn’t they see she was just trying to keep them safe?!

Hermione spent the rest of the day alone, save for a few scant minutes when Crookshanks deigned to grace Hermione with his presence. She was sure to dutifully pet him and lavish him with attention before he went off to do dignified cat things.

Half-kneazle things, she supposed, if the pet store owner was to be believed. Hermione despaired at being so lonely and bored after only a few hours that she became _that_ pedantic. It seemed that the whole of Hogwarts was out to ostracize her. Apparently, the Firebolt was a bigger deal than she had anticipated.

She was pleasantly surprised to receive support from an unexpected ally at dinner that evening.

Hermione was delighted to see that Ginny left her room that evening looking mostly normal. She was a little pale, and Hermione would never mention how her face looked slightly splotched or her eyes were too red. Hermione knew intimately what a well cried face looked like, and she never liked it when her parents had drawn attention to it. She doubted Ginny would appreciate it either.

Ron, in his everlasting genius, was talking loudly about how _unfair_ it was and how _some people_ were just so full of themselves. His words cut deep, but Hermione steeled herself against them. She and Ron had always had an explosive friendship; it was the fact that Harry didn’t defend her which stung her the most.

Ginny had evidently had enough and scooted down the table to be closer to Hermione. Perceptive as she was, she must have noticed the three weren't sitting together.

“What is he going on about now?” Ginny whispered, voice hoarse and raspy. Oh yes, definitely the voice of someone who’d cried so hard their throat had gone raw. Hermione just gave her a watery smile.

“Harry got a last-minute present in the post this morning. Unknown owl, unmarked package. No clue who it was from. It was a Firebolt, apparently. I told McGonagall about it, and she confiscated it to check it for curses.”

Ron had gone on and one about how much his sister loved Quidditch, so she fully expected her to side with them, to blame her for defiling a rare and beautiful artifact of the holy sport known as Quidditch. She also knew Ginny harbored quite the little crush on Harry with his ‘ _Eyes as green as a fresh pickled toad.’_

So Hermione was rather shocked when Ginny narrowed her eyes, turned her head, and _hissed._

It was a sound nearly exactly like the ones that Hermione had heard Harry make the year before. It was a sound virtually identical to the ones she heard in a few of the nightmares she’d had over the summer. It was a sound indistinguishable from the one she’d heard last year before she was petrified.

She knew that Ginny had been possessed. Knew that Ginny had opened the Chamber. She’d done her best to forgive Ginny, to remember it wasn’t her fault, or barring that just forget the whole ordeal. But it wasn’t until that moment that she understood exactly how deeply affected by the whole ordeal Ginny had been. The look on her face had morphed, and she seemed to almost be a different person entirely as her visage twisted into one of pure seething anger.

Ginny stood, abruptly, and marched over to her brother and Harry. She quickly, deftly, and harshly smacked Ron across the back of his head.

“Morgana’s saggy left tit, but I knew you were stupid. Honest, I thought it was mostly ignorance and selfishness. But apparently, _Ronald_ , you are not only unfailingly obtuse, you must also be willingly, purposefully simple minded! Because Merlin knows that’s the ONLY reason I can think of that when an _unmarked, surprise package_ comes flying through the _BLOODY WINDOW_ , your first thought would be anything other than ‘Oh, look, a perfect opportunity for someone to attack us with a _cursed object._ ’”

Ginny was heaving now, and most of the Great Hall was staring at her. She looked around, noticed the crowd of admirers, and grimaced at the way the room seemed to be holding its breath. She grabbed Ron by the robes and pulled him close and whispered something in his ear.

To Hermione, who had been edging closer and closer during the whole tirade, it sounded suspiciously like a hissed “Because none of us have ever been attacked with a cursed object by madmen before, have we?!”

Ginny shoved him away from her, looking down on him as though he was little more than one of the bugs Professor Snape had them crush in potions class. She turned her head to Harry, stared for a moment, and only uttered, softly “I expected better.”

She spared her other three brothers a mere glance, and a sneer, before she stormed out of the Great Hall. Fred muttered ”Merlin, it’s like a smaller, meaner version of Mum.” George just flinched with each step Ginny took as she fled the Great Hall. Percy resolutely looked away, back to the Ravenclaw girl he was talking to.

In watching their reactions, stunned and mouth agape, Hermione barely noticed a small, blonde Ravenclaw getting up to follow Ginny. Hermione took it as a cue to follow as well. Sadly, by the time she’d reached the hallway leading the Great Hall, the two girls had disappeared. Hermione desperately wanted to thank them but hadn’t a clue where they had gone. What’s more, she’d quite honestly lost her appetite, and refused to head back to dinner.

She didn’t think for a moment that Ginny had been standing up for _her_ , but it was certainly nice to have someone agree with her. It was a nice ray of sunlight in what had otherwise been an overcast and dreary day.

* * *

It was early the next morning when Hermione went about her mission to find Ginny. She had seen Harry and Ron giving her short, furtive glances all throughout the evening in the Common Room, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for them. If they wanted to apologize, she’d accept it, certainly, but they needed to actually apologize. She needed to hear them say the words.

She stopped short quickly after starting her search, however, when she realized she had no idea where to begin looking for Ginny. Breakfast, she decided, would be the most likely place. Even though she’d woken up early, however, it appeared she hadn’t risen early enough. Ginny hadn’t been in her Dormitory when she’d checked, and she hadn’t been at breakfast, either.

Her next thought was the Quidditch pitch, but it was so cold out that she doubted even a diehard Quidditch fanatic would brave the winter morning. Feeling slightly defeated, she decided on a quick jaunt to the Library. She didn’t hold out much hope that Ginny would be there studying or doing homework, but it was the only other place she could think of.

To Hermione’s surprise, Ginny was in the library. She was huddled at a corner table with the blonde girl who had followed her out of dinner the evening before. They were rather furiously discussing the book in front of them, and Hermione was reticent to approach. _Nothing ventured, nothing gained_ she thought as she firmed up her resolve.

“Ah, excuse me? Ginny?”

The redhead’s hair swished as she flicked her gaze up to peer at Hermione. She furrowed her brow slightly, and responded simply “Yeah?”

Hermione did her level best to not fidget as she murmured “I was wondering, if you wouldn’t mind terribly, if I might spend some time with you? While I study? It’s only, I ever so appreciate you standing up for me last night, even though I know it wasn’t _for me, for me_ , so much as it was-.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Ginny had glanced at the blonde Ravenclaw, and although the Ravenclaw hadn’t said anything, her slow blink had apparently meant something to Ginny.

Hermione was momentarily angry at being interrupted, but also rather glad. She knew quite well she had a tendency to babble when nervous and she didn’t want to make a bad first impression on the blonde. She sat, and there were a few moments of rather awkward silence, as the conversation the two girls had been having before didn’t seem to resume itself.

Hermione fell back on old habits. She turned to the blonde girl and gave her the best smile she could muster.

“Hello! I’m Hermione Granger, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Luna Lovegood. I haven’t any complaints about meeting you so far. I rather like your moxie.”

Hermione was momentarily taken aback at the rather unusual word, but Ginny just rolled her eyes. “Luna, you don’t need to use _every_ new word you read in a foreign book.”

“But if I don’t use them, then they’ll be lonely sitting all alone in a book that was written overseas. It’s a public service. Besides, you _know_ Niggling Pulsaptera have rather exotic appetites.”

Hermione tried desperately to recall any creature by that name, magical or otherwise, but simply hadn’t the foggiest idea. “I’m sorry, but what’s a Niggling Pulsaptera?”

Luna’s face lit up and Ginny groaned and wiped a hand down her face. Hermione was sure she heard her mutter “Now you’ve done it.” as Luna began to babble at a pace that, in all honesty, impressed even Hermione.

“They’re a small, magical subspecies of beetle! They’re known to be quite pesky; they burrow in books and scrolls, often found in libraries as a result, and their diet mainly consists of the written word. They’re distantly related to Bookworms, or at least I believe so, but Bookworms actually feed of the ambient magic in the paper or book itself, whereas Niggling Pulsaptera feed off the magic inherent in the word. BUT! They’re known to have exotic appetites; they prefer the less commonly used words. So the more I say a word, like ‘moxie,’ which was coined and mostly used overseas, the less likely it is that the word gets eaten by Niggling Pulsaptera that live here in the Scotland! I’ve always wondered why there’s so few in the Hogwarts library - it’s a veritable feeding ground for them, or so I’d assume.”

The small bundle of information cocked her head slightly and turned to Ginny. “You don’t think Pince is in on it, do you? Finds some of the darker, more esoteric books, and feeds them to the beetles so they stay away from the ones she’s willing to let us see? A rather suspicious lack of Pulsaptera leads me to believe we might need to investigate it.”

Ginny was about to respond, when Hermione finally managed to interrupt. During Luna’s whole diatribe, her shock had morphed into a mounting horror at the idea of a race of magical creatures which _ate words out of books._ It was anathema to everything she held dear!

“This is all rather fascinating. I’ve never heard of such a dreadful creature! Devouring the written word is, well, it’s rather terrifying. Would I find their entry in my Monster Book of Monsters for Care of Magical Creatures? Or should I check Scamander’s work?”

Luna just looked at her queerly, and said “Oh, I doubt you’d find it in either of those. But if you like, the Quibbler did an article on them a while back. I could likely find the back issue for you, if you like?”

There was a quality to Luna’s voice, and it caused Hermione to bite back her initial retort of _Oh, so then it was just a joke?_ She instantly felt like the butt of the joke again, the bookworm, the know-it-all, bushy-haired _beaver_ of primary school. Of course, the pretty blonde girl wasn’t talking about a real magical creature, she was probably talking about one that was made up. Maybe even one she made up on the spot; it was well known, in Hogwarts as it was in Hermione’s muggle primary school, that she was more than a bit of a bookworm.

It was just the sort of thing that Sarah from down the road might have done back home. Make something up and pretend to be excited about it, then when Hermione also expressed interest, mock her endlessly for it.

But Luna didn’t sound mocking as she talked about The Quibbler. She didn’t sound like the girls and boys who used to call her names. She sounded more like Hermione used to, before Harry and Ron, when she’d tried to talk about her most recent favorite book with one of her classmates.

The hard-eyed glare that Ginny was giving her _surely_ didn’t have a lick to do with her decision, either. Most definitely not.

So she bit back her response, her biting words of defense and criticism to keep out the hurt, and instead asked unsurely “I’ve heard that The Quibbler is a rather… unorthodox paper. That they’re rather, uhm, liberal? Yes, liberal with their sources of information.”

Luna considered for a moment, then ventured “No more so than the Daily Prophet, I wager. Have you read some of their thoughts on the whereabouts of Sirius Black? Atrocious, I’d say.”

Hermione couldn’t really fault her for that. At the very least, the Daily Prophet seemed at least a little sensationalized. Surely, Sirius Black was a crazed madman, and he was definitely dangerous. But the Daily Prophet had ran two articles a few days apart claiming that he had been sighted on the same day, at the same time, in two different places!

“But that doesn’t mean that some of The Quibbler’s more exotic articles are any less preposterous, does it? I mean, I wouldn’t know of course, I’ve never read the paper. It’s just something I’ve heard about. I wouldn’t want to use them as a reference in a school paper, as an example, if it weren’t going to be taken seriously by my professor.”

It was the glare on Luna’s face, the cold look she’d levelled at Hermione that had made her backtrack and rationalize her statement so quickly. Hermione was sitting with them in the hopes of finding new friends, or at least study partners. She didn’t want to alienate them quite so quickly!

Luna’s mouth was pursed in an odd moue, almost as though she’d bitten a lemon, with scrunched up eyebrows and nose, when suddenly she smiled. It was a sharp smile, and Hermione had a moment of fallen hope, realizing she’d likely lost their friendship and was about to made fun of. Instead, what words left the girl’s mouth soared her spirits nearly as high as they’d flown when she’d first heard she was a witch.

“And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione, / How thou lovest us, show in our brother’s welcome; / Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap: / Next to thyself and my young rover, he’s / Apparent to my heart.” the girl whispered so softly that Hermione nearly didn’t hear her. But she did hear it, and she wasn’t making it up.

It was Shakespeare!

When Hermione had first gone to school, it had been without the benefit of having any friends. With both her parents working together in the same dental practice, she had often been left with a nanny. Her nanny was a young, sweet college student named Melinda. She’d been ever so wonderful, but not very good at scheduling play dates. Worse, she generally avoided going to the park due to the rather nasty glares she got when the other mother’s assumed she’d had a teenage pregnancy.

So Hermione and Melinda had stayed inside and played puzzles and reading and make pretend together. That suited Hermione just fine; she rather enjoyed playing Dentist with Melinda, and Melinda always had fun new puzzles.

Yet when she’d gone to attend school, no one had wanted to play Dentist with her. She was faster than the other children at completing the puzzles, and they were reading so slowly! Still, she tried to be polite, and play their games, and read at their pace, and she never finished her puzzle first.

It was to be her first exposure to the cruel truths of the world; that often times there are bullies, and that they were mean and insensitive. Worse, bullies didn’t need a reason to be mean. Hermione’s first day of school had ended in tears after the girl’s had mocked her, mercilessly, for her “dumb name that no one even knows how to say,” even though she had made an effort to be kind to them.

She had gone home, sobbing and wailing to her parents, begging to know why they’d given her such an atrocious name. They had, in response, produced a book.  A beautiful book, bound in leather and emblazoned with stark gold lettering.

Inside were many different stories, but the one they showed her and spent the whole evening reading to her had been _The Winter’s Tale_.

Hermione had cried anew, but not due to bullies. Hermione had realized she’d been named after a queen. A beautiful, kind, loving, wonderful queen who everybody loved, and who had _come back to life at the end_. She had, with this in mind, devoured all of Shakespeare’s works. She didn’t understand all of them, and her parents hadn’t let her read some until she was older because the jokes ‘weren’t appropriate.’ But her diligence had paid off, and she’d become closely acquainted with her namesake’s author’s works.

It was from then on that any time she’d had a particularly bad day at school with the bullies that she would cheer herself up by reading one of Shakespeare’s plays or sonnets, either by herself or with her parents. This morphed into quoting competitions, where her parents (avid lovers of Shakespeare themselves) would compete with her to see who could recall the best quote, or stump the other two with which play or sonnet the quote was from. Proving you knew a quote by finishing the line was the best way to prove you knew it, and so quote competitions were a common occurrence in the Granger household.

So it was many long years of ingrained training and repetition that caused Hermione’s nearly automatic response.

“If you would seek us, / We are yours i’ the garden: shall’s attend you there?”

Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth, and she just _knew_ that she’d ruined this. Nobody liked a know-it-all! The one time she had done this with Harry and Ron, she’d horribly hurt Ron’s feelings. He’d been rather clever and referenced a quote from the Wizarding version of A Christmas Carol (which Ron wouldn’t admit, but Hermione was quite sure had been plagiarized) and she’d just happily finished the quote. He’d grumbled at her for a _week_ about it.

Instead, to Hermione’s utter shock, Luna continued to smile a pleased smile, the smile of the cat which not only caught but _devoured_ the canary, and did something Hermione never expected to happen in Hogwarts, or honestly anywhere outside of her own home.

She followed up with another quote!

“She is spread of late / Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her!”

“What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now / I am for you again: pray you, sit by us, / And tell ’s a tale.”

“Merry or sad shall’t be?”

“As merry as you will.”

“A sad tale’s best for winter: I have one / Of sprites and goblins.”

Just as Hermione was about to respond, Luna abruptly interrupted her and pivoted “All the world’s a stage, / And all the men and women merely players.”

And although yes, that was rude, Hermione was having too much fun, and was a bit too busy being nostalgic for home to notice or care over much. Instead, she paused for a moment, closed her eyes, muttered the line back to herself, then smiled as the rest of the scene came to her.

“They have their exits and their entrances, / And one man in his time plays many parts, / His acts being seven ages.” Hermione paused then. She was in the middle of a line, but if she continued, she might go on forever! Luna had started off at a rather wordy line, and unlike with her parents, Hermione wasn’t positive of the rules of this game.

Hermione was relieved, and excited, as Luna’s smile grew wider, almost predatory, and she pivoted again. Hermione had to close her eyes as Luna spoke to keep up with her, so quickly did she switch scenes and quotes!

“No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even / The natural fool of fortune. Use me well. / You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons. / I am cut to th' brains.”

In that moment, it didn’t matter if Madam Pince heard them, or they were kicked out. This was fun in a way Hermione only rarely got to experience at Hogwarts.

“You shall have anything.”

“This was sometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.”

Ah, that tricky witch. Not quoting the whole line in an attempt to throw her off? But _Hamlet_ was a house favorite, and Hermione was often allowed to be Ophelia. It did not throw her off for even a moment.

“Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.”

“You should not have believed me, for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it. I loved you not.”

It was at that line that Hermione paused. There was some quality in Luna’s voice, a mixture of probing and pleading, that Hermione didn’t recognize. She had mostly been quoting from habit, long lines entrenched in her mind through repetition. But at Luna’s most recent utterance, Hermione took just a few moments to sit back. To _think_. To parse through the quotes they’d thrown about, and it was with a dawning understanding in her eyes that she murmured:  
  
“I was the more deceived.”

“‘There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in our philosophy.’”

“‘Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, / How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself, / (As I perchance hereafter shall think meet, / To put an antic disposition on).’”

They both paused then, Hermione and Luna, bushy brown frizz and ethereal blonde locks, rich amber locked on glinting blue, a creeping flush versus a composed porcelain.

“Is not the truth the truth?” Hermione ventured when Luna seemed unable, or unwilling, to continue their tete-a-tete.

Luna lightly _hmmmed_ to herself, and held out a hand, making a _so-so_ gesture. “Though I am not naturally _dis_ honest, I am sometimes so by chance.”

Hermione frowned at that. It wasn’t a direct quote, but she got the meaning well enough. She opened her mouth to continue, when she was interrupted by a loud _THUNK_. She and Luna both turned their heads in surprise, to see Ginny’s head firmly attached to the table.

“Here lies Ginevra Weasley, survived by her too large family. Her death was caused by terminal confusion, mostly from being subjected to _two_ ridiculously smart witches. One, she could handle, but two was more than any mortal could be expected to suffer through. So brave, so strong, so true. Also, she died from a terrible first name. Alas, we hardly knew ye.”

“ _Just WHAT do you think you are doing?!”_ All three girls jumped, and Hermione turned in horror to face one of the few adults in the school who she could categorically describe as both her favorite AND her least favorite.

“I will not have you disturbing my library!” the pinch-faced librarian hissed. “Out! All of you, out! And don’t come back till tomorrow!”

The three hastily gathered up their belongings and scurried out as quickly as they could. There was a moment of bated breath between them as they all stared at each other outside the library. Later on, Hermione wouldn’t be able to say who had started it, but all three ended up bowled over laughing their hardest.

After a long, stressful, and frankly terrifying third year, Hermione only though _I forgot how good it was to laugh_.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Luna murmured “I haven’t done that in a long time. My Mum used to read Shakespeare to me, when I was growing up. ‘Magic is more than waving a wand and saying a spell. It’s in the beauty we manage to find and make for ourselves.’ Shakespeare was a squib, you know.  He grew up around magic, and though he couldn’t cast a spell, my Mum argued he was one of the best wizards ever born.”

“Your Mum sounds like a very wise woman.” Hermione offered.

“Yes, she most definitely was.”

The somber silence that fell over them, muffling their echoing laughter under its depressive oppression was rather symbolic for the entirety of their year, if Hermione did say so herself. Brief flashes of enjoyment to be found in an otherwise terrifying time.

* * *

The rest of their break was not nearly as eventful. Apparently, Luna and Ginny had accepted her, and if she was honest with herself, she enjoyed the change of pace.

She loved her boys, she really did, but they weren’t always the most intellectually stimulating. Ron would much rather goof off or procrastinate, and Harry often followed his lead. And no, chess at all hours of the day did _not count_ as intellectual stimulation. At least, not past the first game or two.

But Luna and Ginny kept her on her toes. They referenced books and talked about things from class in addition to other inane topics, and it managed to be a wonderful blend of schoolwork and idle chitchat that Hermione had never managed to reach with her boys or her dorm mates.

Even better, they didn’t talk about Quidditch once!

Honestly, considering the fact that the two girls not only noticed but were also willing to _explain_ the few mishaps where Hermione’s Muggleborn background led to misunderstandings, she felt she was almost taking advantage of the two. She desperately wished she had something she could give them, something she could do to show her appreciation for them so easily adding her to their small group.

She almost, nearly, so _so close,_ told them about the Time Turner. But even that was a little selfish, as just a way to spend more time with her new girlfriends.

Huh. She had never had ‘girlfriends’ before, and she’d found she rather enjoyed it.

But it was as she walked up to their regular library tables on one of their last days before the end of the holiday that her opportunity arose.

“I know you think we need it in time, but we don’t. I really doubt that every single person who has ever participated in one of these rituals has known this _extremely obscure and difficult branch of magic_.” Ginny’s voice was filled with all the scorn a loving friendship could fling, which was surprisingly quite a lot.

“Well, yes, but I also doubt that ‘every single person who has ever participated in one of these rituals’ has gotten away scot free without any damages.”

“You’re the one who’s always saying correlation isn’t causation, and anyways I don’t even think that’s a correlation! Those two things might not even be related!”

“Oh, pooh on you.”

“She’s right, you know.” Hermione finally interrupted, a light smile resting on her lips. “You didn’t prove that those two things were correlated at all, let alone a discussion about cause.”

The two girls looked up at her, startled by her appearance at their table. Not that it was uncommon; Ginny and Luna were just so deep in conversation they hadn’t noticed her. Ginny shuffled some of the books and papers about with a huge triumphant grin on her face as Luna said:

“I think I liked it better when _I_ was the only smart one around here.”

“Oi!”

“Yes, well” Hermione ignored Ginny’s outburst, as did Luna “at the very least you now have someone else to bounce ideas off of? What are you arguing about, anyways?”

“I’ll give you both something to bounce off of.” Ginny grumbled as she crossed her arms and glared.

“That’s a terrible threat. This is why _we’re_ the smart ones.” Hermione was doing everything in her power to keep her smirk in check.

“Obviously.” Luna piped in, her smirk no less constrained.

“You’re going to get us kicked out again, and then where will you be, huh smarty-pants’?” Ginny stuck out her tongue.

“Actually, you’re the one who mostly gets us kicked out. And once again, I have to ask: what were you talking about?”

Ginny and Luna had one of their silent conversations then, a quick staring contest that either contained a million meanings, or none at all. Hermione was never sure. Eventually, Ginny nodded, and Luna turned to explain.

“We’re planning a ritual. We wanted to celebrate Samhain last October, but that was ruined for obvious reasons. We’re planning on Imbolc this February 1st.” Luna leaned in close, almost conspiratorially, and stage whispered “Ginny saw the Egyptian Solstice Ritual last summer. At _Dendera._ ”

Hermione looked confused for a moment, before venturing “Is that a big deal?”

Luna groaned as Ginny gave a smug smile and said “I told you she wouldn’t know it. It’s a dying part of our culture, how could you expect her to know?”

“Because I saw a cadre of Zeitwarmles! How could I see that, and _not_ be hopeful!”

“Maybe you were hopeful about the wrong thing?” Hermione was still on the fence about the whole ‘imaginary magical creatures that Luna can’t prove exists, but Hermione can’t technically disprove them either, so let’s all treat them as real’ situation. But at least Luna had made a few good points, and Hermione had gotten a new ‘quote-buddy’ out of it.

Luna just nodded morosely. “I s’pose.” Then she perked up. “But now I get to tell you about it! Many different magical cultures still follow some of the old religions. Mostly, this is an excuse to practice the old rituals that go along with those religions. Many witches believe that the old religions were actually ruses created by our ancestors to get the muggles to willingly accept our magic as natural and acceptable. Some others believe instead that many ancient religions were co-opted, and it was only with the rise of certain monotheistic religions which vilified witchcraft that the two, religion and magic, became antithetical.” Luna was in full fervor now, full of passion, and Hermione was right there along with her.

Ginny looked on in amusement with a soft-hearted smile.

“That’s rather fascinating. So do some witches or wizards still actively practice, or believe in these ancient religions? Which are most prominent? If it’s still prominent, why haven’t I seen any druids or other religious movements around?”

“Mostly due to Hogwarts and, well, muggleborns. After the Great Separation, and the invention of the Statute of Secrecy, things began to change. As muggles, and by extension muggleborns, moved their society forward, and relied less on the religion of their forefathers and more on science and technology, holidays and religions changed drastically as well. Muggleborns, especially in the early years, had an intense fear of anything ‘pagan,’ and so we were forced to adapt or throw out the muggleborns and stagnate even further as a society. We adapted. Mostly.”

Hermione looked conflicted at that, as though she didn’t enjoy all the implications involved in that interpretation but couldn’t necessarily refute them. She decided, instead, to push on.

“So you’re going to be holding a celebration? Performing a ritual? Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous to do without supervision or preparation?”

Luna seemed to take this as a rallying point to her argument. “You _see?_ We need to take the proper precautions. It’s dangerous!” Her arms gestured wildly in what was vaguely Hermione’s direction.

Ginny just rolled her eyes. “She means getting a teacher involved.”

Luna pouted in response “Semantics and details. The point is, I don’t think we should work on it until we’ve for sure learned Occlumency enough to be safe. You said yourself that just _watching_ the ritual at Dendera was an emotional experience. Imagine how directly feeling all that emotion might be inside the ritual!”

“You can’t honestly believe that every single witch or wizard to ever perform the rituals at Imbolc knew Occlumency. That’s crazy! Besides, you know I’m rubbish at meditation! We were willing to do the old ritual without knowing Occlumency, I don’t see what the problem is now!” She muttered under her breath “And I’d rather be practicing those divination throws anyways.”

“Because I didn’t know about it then, but I do now!” Luna flopped back into her chair, letting the breath rush out of herself.

“Ah, two things.” Hermione broke in. “Firstly, why in the world would you want to practice divination? I’m taking it now, and I can tell you for certain, I won’t be taking it next year. I’ll finish the year, of course, but it’s just so-. Well. It’s a rather wooly subject, don’t you agree?”

Luna just blinked at her and answered before Ginny had a chance to. “Well of course it’s a wooly subject. It’s divination.” She said this with such certainty and aplomb that Hermione was shocked. Professor McGonagall had said the same thing, it was actually where Hermione had gotten the phrase, but unlike her professor there was no scorn in Luna’s voice.

At Hermione’s obvious lack of comprehension, Luna continued. “Divination is the art of determining the threads which make up the weave of the world. The Fates in ancient myths are known for spinning, measuring, and cutting the threads of destiny. Of _course_ over the course of _all of time that has ever existed_ at least some of those threads would be wool. Saying divination is a wooly subject is just as true as saying it’s a rather silky subject.”

Luna frowned, before she continued. “Do you suppose they also have, er, what’s the muggle word? Those blended threads, the very soft ones? PolySylvester? I suppose they might, but can muggles be the focus of a divination?”

“They can, actually.” Ginny jumped in.

Hermione was thoroughly lost, at this point, and resigned herself to being along for the ride. When the two other girls got going on a topic, they were like the Hogwarts Express; a fast, nearly unstoppable blend of scarlet and gold.

“They can’t, of course, make divinations themselves, but wizards and witches can make divinations or find answers to questions being posed by muggles. And muggles have, in the past, been at the center of Prophecies. So I’d be surprised if there wasn’t at least a bit of Poly-” she looked over at Hermione for assurance “ester? Polyester mixed in with the rest of the threads of fate.”

“How in the world do you know all of that? It wasn’t mentioned anywhere in my textbook, and Trelawney hasn’t even broached the topic! It’s been all “tea leaves” this and “your rabbit is going to die a terrible death” that. Or worse, the ever popular “Harry Potter is secretly a grim in disguise and will die a terrible horrible death!”

“There seems to be a lot of dying in your divination class. Have you considered divining less death?” Luna inquired.

“Tell it to Trelawney.” Hermione grumbled.

“Regardless, it was mostly out of this book.” Ginny slid a tome entitled _Looking Behind to See Ahead: The Lost Art of Divination_ by Cecilie Aisling. Then she crooked a smile and slid another book across. “And just because I know you’ll ask about it soon enough.”

The second book, much thinner, was entitled _The Inner Peace, The Outer Prosperity._ It had no listed author and was rather ragged looking.

“We think that one was supposed to be in the restricted section, but we found it by the section on Merpeople Rebellions. A rather small section, to be sure, but as we didn’t break any rules to get it, it’s ours now.” Her smile was sharp and jagged, but Hermione couldn’t bring herself to care. These both looked like _wonderful_ finds.

Hermione’s attention was firmly placed on the book about divination. A brief perusal of the table of contents showed that most of the methods were different from _Unfogging the Future_. And not all of them dealt with seeing the future or making predictions. Some, or more honestly most, of the book seemed to be dealing with questions of what _is_ or what _was._

“Where did you find this?! This looks ever so much more useful than the garbage we’re learning now!”

“Uhm, in the library? Where else does one find new and interesting books?” Luna was so matter of fact, it sometimes made Hermione want to pull her hair straight out!

“Yes, but _where in the library!”_

“Oh, I don’t recall. We were looking for information about Imbolc, shortly after Samhain hadn’t worked out. There’s a chapter on it in there, and some of the divinations that used to be performed with or adjacent to different celebratory rituals.”

“Wait a moment, what was the second thing you wanted to say, Hermione? We sort of just barreled right over you.” Ginny brought the conversation back to center.

“Oh, yes. That. Sorry. Just that, uhm. Well, if you wanted the help, I have some experience with meditation. Not a lot, mind!” She waved her hands to ward off their hungry glares. “Just, you know, it was something my parents thought might help me calm down at school when I got too anxious about… a test. Or something.”

She trailed off, and she could feel the two younger girls’ eyes on her, but neither one said anything, for which she was grateful. Not even Harry and Ron knew how badly the students had bullied her before Hogwarts. Well, she had a suspicion that Harry had something of a good idea, but she was sure neither of them would force the issue.

“Does that sound like a good compromise, then, Luna? We practice with Hermione, but do the ritual regardless of how far we get?”

“Well, she _is_ known for her rather intense study schedules. I suppose if she can’t get us in good shape, no one could.”

Hermione just smiled and opened up what was likely to be one of her new favorite books for the rest of term.


	7. Dancing

The start of the second term of her second year was better than the start of the first term. Ginny was able to eat in the Great Hall without having a panic attack. The hallways, still as dark and foreboding as ever, with memories of her terrible first year in every nook and cranny, failed to beat her down. She had Luna with her, and she knew unequivocally where they stood with each other.

Occasionally, she also had Hermione. She was less available now that term had started up again. She was apparently taking every class available, which was crazy, but none of Ginny’s business.

Surprisingly enough, even the bullies had backed off.

The first time the two second years had seen their three main tormentors, it felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the hallway. Ginny held her breath, and the scar on her arm ached horribly. She couldn’t have breathed even she’d wanted to. Luna had held her hand so tight she’d felt her bones creak. The three girls all stared at them with varying expressions.

Worry. Confusion. Scorn.

Kim looked worried. Olivia looked confused. But Felicity, she had a nasty glare and a pinched mouth any time she passed Ginny or Luna in the hall.

But not a single one did anything. No jinxes, no insults. They were too cautious, it seemed, to start anything. Ginny and Luna decided to leave it alone as well, to see how long they could ride out the tension and enjoy a reprieve.

Neither Ginny or Luna expected it was over permanently, though. It wasn’t peace they enjoyed during the winter; it was a ceasefire. Their own personal cold war.

Their free time, which had before been spent exploring, was now spent practicing and studying. They studied the particulars of the ritual they wanted to complete for Imbolc, ensuring they had everything perfect.

When their legs cramped up or their vision blurred from reading so many books, they took to the hallways they knew so well. They practiced dueling each other as they ran through the abandoned corridors, in preparation for the end of their paused hostilities with the bullies. The jinxes and hexes they read about, they would throw at each other until their arms were sore and their feet throbbed from casting and running. They were reluctant to learn anything too dangerous, but the image of Ginny’s blood staining the white snow as the bullies looked on and jeered spurred them forwards.

But perhaps the most difficult thing they worked on was their meditation and Occlumency lessons. While Hermione’s schedule was more hectic, the fact that she still wasn’t speaking to either of her best friends meant she had the time to practice with Ginny and Luna.

They held their first session during their first week back to classes, during the one open period of time where all three of them were free. Hermione’s schedule was mind boggling.

She had bustled into the room they’d set aside to meet in, all aflutter, parchment and books in her hands as she rushed to find a seat. It was nearing the end of Hermione’s free block and was the tail end of Ginny and Luna’s lunch. Hermione had said it was the only time that would work, as she had quite enough homework to do, and could really only spare a bit of time at the end.

“So, are we all set?” Hermione asked. The three girls were set up in what was likely an old classroom, more specifically what would have been the professor’s dormitory. They had found some sort of sitting room or lounge area with a few furnishings left mostly intact against the ravages of time. There were a few couches and chairs in muted colors, with small foot rests and coffee tables to match. Everything was dusty and decrepit, but Hermione had gone on a rampage, muttering _“Scourgify”_ and other spells that Ginny didn’t catch until the room was nearly sterile.

“Yep!” Ginny and Luna chorused.

“So, from everything I read, it looks like the strongest Occlumency defense is the art of clearing the mind. When you think no thoughts, then there’s nothing for the attacker or intruder to grasp onto. But not thinking at all is as difficult as not thinking of pink elephants, or white bears. It’s called Ironic Process Theory, and is really rather fascinating.”

Ginny cleared her throat. Hermione was wonderful but could be a bit scatterbrained. She’d pick up a thread she thought was interesting, and like a dog with a bone she’d go on and on if you didn’t take it away.

“Anyways, the book suggested meditation to work towards a state of clear mind, which would work, except there’s so many different kinds of meditation, and it’s not really for everybody, and just sitting down and trying to do nothing is _boring._ Thankfully, my parents got me a few cassette tapes on meditation a while back, so I’ve a bit of a hint for us. Guided meditations!” Hermione exclaimed the last bit as though she was unveiling Merlin’s own personal grimoire to them, showing them the greatest treasure they could possibly imagine.

Ginny just rolled her eyes. She had no idea how _tape_ of all things could help you learn meditation. Stick a piece of paper to your forehead so you couldn’t see? Tape your eyes shut? Tape yourself to the floor so when you got bored you couldn’t get up?

“So I’m going to give you both instructions, and you’ll follow them, and hopefully this will work a little better.” And with that, she pulled out a piece of parchment, and began reading off of it.

“Take a moment to settle yourself. Let your body relax and focus on the sound of your breathing. Slowly, begin taking deeper breaths. Pull in more air through your nose until your chest is tight, and hold, then let out through your mouth. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out.”

Ginny inhaled and exhaled in time with Hermione’s words.

“Then slowly, while still focusing on your breathing, close your eyes. Keep focusing on taking deep breaths. In. Out. Feel the breath filling your lungs, holding it, and then let it out slowly. With each breath you take, you’re bringing in new energy into your body, and expelling the bad energy with the out-breath. Slowly, let your breathing fall back into its natural rhythm, so that you aren’t as focused on it. Instead, listen to the world around you. Notice all the things you can hear, and smell.”

Ginny let go of her breathing and followed Hermione’s instructions. She heard the sound of Luna’s breath next to her, speeding up to a more natural rhythm, but becoming more shallow. She could smell the faint traces of dust and ink in the room, lurking beneath the sterile smell of Hermione’s Scouring and Cleaning Charms.

Distantly, she heard the rumble of the castle. The low din of students and teachers walking and talking and writing and learning and living. It was like a background hum, and she tried to pick individual pieces out of it unsuccessfully. It was all an indistinct murmur. Just as she felt herself start to get distracted, her mind wandering away from listening to the noises around her, Hermione spoke up again.

“Bring your attention and focus away from the external, and instead to the internal. Notice how your body feels. Don’t move, or change, but just notice how it feels as you sit. Start with your toes, and your feet. If they’re uncomfortable, that’s okay, just notice it and move on. If it’s comfortable, that’s okay too. Just notice, recognize, and move. Now your legs, and your knees. Slowly towards your hips, then your chest. It doesn’t matter if it’s tight or loose or anywhere in between, just take the time to be aware.”

Hermione kept a low murmur up as she brought them through the rest of their body. Shoulders, arms, elbows, hands, fingers, neck, head. Ginny noticed each ache, each throb, each relaxed muscle. She hadn’t ever gone over her body before, but it was different. A nice sort of different, but strange nonetheless.

“Now focus on your breathing again. Don’t change how you’re breathing, keep it in its natural rhythm, but pay attention to it. If it changes as you focus on it, that’s okay, but try to just let yourself be. Don’t focus on it, just recognize it. Your body knows how to breathe; just let it go.”

Ginny’s breaths were low and shallow, not too long and not too short. She was relaxed, as she focused on the rise and fall of her chest, how it felt as her lungs filled part way before releasing.

“And now, just let your thoughts wander. Don’t focus on any one thing. Allow your stream of consciousness to follow the path it sets, running and burbling all the way down, never stopping. As each of your thoughts come, notice them, accept them, and then try to let them go. Don’t focus, don’t obsess, just let your thoughts come in and out as they please.

_This is so different than the meditation I’ve tried before._

_It’s so much easier with a voice to listen to._

_It’s only a short while until our ritual. I wonder if Hermione will be able to join us._

_I wonder how long it’s been?_

At that last thought, Ginny tried to viciously shove the thought away as her curiosity and worry over her inability to meditate caused her to become more and more nervous.

“If you find a thought is becoming too persistent, or your mind is hard to center as you let your thoughts come and go, instead focus on your breathing again for a short while to bring yourself back to center. Don’t change your breathing, just pay attention to it and recognize it. Count each breathe, up to ten. Then try again to let your mind wander.”

Ginny calmed, and focused on her breathing once again, before continuing to let her mind wander.

_I wonder how long the bullies will be able to hold off._

_I’m so glad my roommates bought the story about how I loved my diary._

“And whenever you’re ready, no rush, you can slowly open your eyes.”

Ginny stayed sitting down, and allowed her thoughts to flow around her, her mind less like the river Hermione had described, and more like a campfire. Small and contained, but flickering back and forth, with occasional sparks flying off in different directions.

Eventually, when she felt like she’d waited long enough, she opened her eyes to find Hermione holding two stacks of parchment, looking rather nervous.

“So? How did it go? Did it work better? Guided meditation is supposed to be a little easier for beginners, it certainly was for me, but I didn’t want to assume, and-.”

“That was quite lovely.” Luna interrupted as she opened her eyes as well. “I think I should like to do that again.”

“Me, as well. I’ve never even come that close to meditating before. I don’t think I was meditating, exactly, but I think I got close! My mind never really stopped, but I’ve never even been able to sit for that long when I’ve tried in the past!” Ginny figured Hermione could use the encouragement. As Hermione’s shoulders relaxed and her smile peeked through the frown on her face, Ginny gave herself a mental pat on the back.

“Well, sadly we won’t have the time to meet often. And anyways, I wouldn’t be able to participate if I was always the one doing the guiding. So, I took it on myself to do a bit of extra research, and I found a few charms that might help.” She didn’t look nearly as excited as she normally did when discussing new charms. Instead of a smile and bright eyes, she was still biting her lips and wasn’t looking either Ginny or Luna in the eye. They didn’t have the time to deal with Hermione’s reticence; they all had class soon.

“Out with it, Hermione, what’s the catch? It sounds like a dream come true.”

“Well, it’s a modified version of the Cantillation Charm. It reads, out loud, what I’ve written down on the paper. I just have to teach you the charm, and you’ll be good to go; you’ll have your own personal guided meditations, based on what I’ve written.”

Hermione and Luna were both staring at her as Hermione explained her solution; as such, they both instantly noticed Ginny stiffen at the thought of magic reading out the written word to her. So many thoughts assaulted her as her instincts told her it was a terrible idea that her mind froze as still as her body.

There were two main thoughts warring in her head as she attempted to calm herself.

_I can’t trust talking paper! Fool me once, shame on them, fool me twice, shame on me!_

_But I’ll be in control. And I NEED Occlumency. So that this doesn’t ever happen to me again._

She took in a deep breath, held it, and let it out. All the tension she’d just released through the short meditation, which had been more than she’d realized, had coursed through her body again as she tightened up. She tried to let it all go with her breathing. She wasn’t successful, really, but she did manage to reach a decision.

“How many times a day will we be meditating, based on your schedule?”

“Three. Morning, afternoon, and evening.” Ginny just held out her hand for the parchments and shoved them a little too viciously into her bag.

“Thank you, Hermione.” Ginny put as much emphasis into that as she could, because she truly meant it. She stared at Hermione until she looked up, and their eyes met, and Ginny gave a small smile. “I appreciate you doing all this work; Luna and I were nearly about to give up.”

“You were about to give up. I had said no such thing. I thought we should try the other method in the book. Just continually legilimencing… legilimizing? Continue attacking each other until we naturally picked it up. It’s supposed to be quite faster.”

“And far more painful.” Ginny rolled her eyes at Luna. “And not one of us is that desperate.” _Yet_. Ginny added that part only to herself, silently.

The three girls each headed out at that point, chatting aimlessly before they headed to their next classes. They really were running a bit late.

* * *

It was a stroke of genius that had allowed their plans to celebrate Imbolc and engage in the seasonal ritual to be so successful. Hermione had had the foresight to ask Hagrid if they could have a bit of a party, just the three of them, with a bonfire. She had confided in him, saying that the three girls wanted a bit of time to themselves.

“With a few mostly fake tears about Harry and Ron still ignoring me, Hagrid was more than happy to let us use his garden patch! He even laughed when I told him, in the strictest of confidences of course, that we three girls had a bit of new magic we wanted to practice as well. He said he might even watch, if we didn’t mind!”  

Luna and Ginny were gobsmacked as she explained all this to them on their walk out to Hagrid’s hut on January 31st, all their materials in hand. Picnic basket, carved sticks of yew, a few blankets to lay on. They didn’t need a whole lot for their rather simplistic ritual.

It must have been clear how surprised they were based on their facial expressions alone, because Hermione began to back pedal.

“I feel a bit bad about the tiny bit of manipulation, of course, I’m not quite certain he knows enough to distinguish between Dark magical rituals, and old, forgotten, seasonal magical rituals, so I didn’t tell him we were doing a ritual specifically, but it certainly wasn’t a lie! Besides, if all goes according to plan, we’ll be leaving him something of a gift! It’ll all work out in the end.”

“Hermione, don’t take this the wrong way, but you frighten me a bit. In all honesty, you scare the bloody hell out of me. In the best possible way, of course!” Ginny threw up her hands and waved them as she tried to ensure Hermione didn’t take it the wrong way.

Hermione laughed out loud, head back and full belly laughter. “Your brother said something similar, once. Almost exactly.” She imitated Ron and quoted. “‘She’s scary. Brilliant, but scary.’ Or, it was something like that anyways.”

Hermione had a rather sad smile as she reminisced, so Ginny was going to let her just enjoy the silence and her memories as they walked. Luna had other ideas.

“You miss them? Even though you still see them every day?”

“It’s not the same, just to see them. I miss talking to them. Sharing with them. Being with them, every step of the day. I’ve been rather absent this year, and even when I was around, we were always arguing about silly things. I just wish it would all go back to normal.” Hermione let out a long sigh.

“Mmmm, I’m sure it will. Friendship like that doesn’t just disappear, you know?”

“Oi! You lot are ‘ere early. Nip inside for a cuppa tea, then?” Hagrid belted out as they came into view.

All three girls couldn’t help but light up at the sight of him. Hagrid was just so kind and friendly, it was hard to think sad thoughts in his presence. They did take the time to enjoy a nice cup of tea with him, chatting aimlessly about nothing of importance until the sun had fully set.

Once the sun had set completely, the girls made their way out to the fire pit behind Hagrid’s hut, and began their first ritual of the night.

Many of the rituals they could find had started with the gathering of firewood for the remainder of winter; not one of the girls had even considered any of those. The only way they’d find enough for the whole winter would be to venture further out than Hagrid’s hut, and they weren’t about to head in to the Forbidden Forest for firewood anytime soon. Not with dementors on the prowl.

Instead, they picked a ritual that had included choosing the best firewood, the pieces that would provide the largest fire. They scoured through the whole pile Hagrid had collected, and working in tandem, set up the foundations of a huge flame in the fire pit right outside Hagrid’s hut. The book hadn’t given any incantations in specific to light the fire, only vague references to an opening chant, and an offhand mention that the fire was lit ‘with magic.’

All of the descriptions of rituals they had found were vague allusions, and had presupposed a certain amount of knowledge that none of them had about rituals. As a result, the girls had argued for days about what exactly was being described in each ritual, and all the possibilities for the specifics of each ritual before they finally settled on a compromise that made them all happy. They’d rolled the lighting of the fire into the ritual itself, making one large ritual composed of three sub rites.

Their fire pit set up, cold logs stacked against each other in an exact configuration, and a small area around it cleared of snow, they each approached, forming a loose circle. Just the barest edge of sunlight peeked out of the horizon, twilight in full effect, casting shadows across their space. They peered at each other through the murky silhouettes left by the dying light of the sunset until, by some unspoken agreement, they moved in tandem.

They circled the unlit fire pit counterclockwise, widdershins, each in identical plain black robes with no house crests or colors. After three silent rotations of the pit, they stood in silence for a moment or two, and then Ginny started the chant. The moment her mouth opened, the words slipping out as easy as breathing, they all began circling the pit again, this time in a clockwise, deosil, direction.

“A new day is born as the Sun descends

Now the days grow longer, and the Winter ends

On the following Morn, the Sun shall rise

Its power increasing, overtaking the Skies

It shall cover the Earth, a warming glow

Scouring shadows, so that new life may grow.”

As they stalked around the barren pit, Ginny began to feel a familiar sense of _weight_ leaning down on her. It was similar to the feeling she had experienced in Egypt, but more personal. It was the feeling she got when she was walking in the hallways and knew a bully was staring at her without having to look, just multiplied a hundred-fold.

Hair stood on edge, lining her neck and her arms. She had memorized the words to her chant so intensely over the past few weeks that they slipped out of her lips nearly without her realizing it.

The three girls paused, standing exactly where they had started. A few scant heartbeats passed between them, until they began to move again, the same direction, deosil. Luna added her voice to Ginny’s for the second pass.

“A new day is born as the Sun descends

Now the days grow longer, and the Winter ends

On the following Morn, the Sun shall rise

Its power increasing, overtaking the Skies

It shall cover the Earth, a warming glow

Scouring shadows, so that new life may grow.”

With each word she spoken, Ginny’s hot breath frosted out into the Winter air. She could feel each _thud, thud, thud_ of her footsteps as she swept around the desolate firewood sending a shiver straight up her legs and into her gut.

As she came to a sudden halt once more, it was as though electricity crackled silently between the three of them. Her eyes told her the firewood before her sat untouched and unmoved, devoid of any warmth. But she could swear she smelled smoke and tasted the ash in the air, could hear the crackling roar of the fire and feel the heat of the embers before her dancing over her skin. She could envision it so clearly in her mind’s eye: the orange-red flames, the blackened ash of firewood, the grey stone circles making up the firepit alive with the dancing shadows from the firelight. The firewood before her sat cold, unused, but with _potential_.

None of the girls made eye contact with each other, or even acknowledged the other’s presence. Each was lost in their own world, as they stared deeply into the unwoken wood, the fire-to-be, until again in sync they moved and chanted. Hermione’s voice joined the chorus on their third and final clockwise turn.

“A new day is born as the Sun descends

Now the days grow longer, and the Winter ends

On the following Morn, the Sun shall rise

Its power increasing, overtaking the Skies

It shall cover the Earth, a warming glow

Scouring shadows, so that new life may grow.”

They whirled around the cold logs, the stomp of their feet timed to the cadence of their voice, the three of them a choir unto themselves, singing out to the world. Ginny couldn’t tell if she was whispering or shouting, couldn’t barely hear the other two girls for the rushing in her ears. Everything was too sharp, too in focus, too big, too great.

Her mind floated as she moved, and she thought of nothing but the words on her lips and the feeling of her body. The sensations coursing through as she was hyper aware of her body were so strong she wanted to lose herself in them. Instead, she felt her mind notice each thought, each line of each verse as her mouth spoke it, and she recognized each one. Keeping them in order kept her in the present, kept her sufficiently focused to remember the next line clearly enough to say it consciously. Elsewise, she was sure she’d submit to the magic taking over her, the words being forced out her mouth of their own accord, and she knew she’d have lost herself to the whirlwind of magic and power.

All too soon, their chant ended, and their feet stilled. Standing in her original position, Ginny didn’t want it to end, never wanted it to end, wanted to feel that sense of heat and pressure for as long as she lived. But she knew what was next, the release that was coming, and she yearned for that too.

Two things, diametrically opposed, mutually exclusive, and she desperately, achingly, longingly craved both of them.

Each witch raised her wand, high and up towards the logs, and in unison they sang:

“We call upon you! Arise! Become! Cleanse! _INCENDIO!_ ”

Ginny’s world _burst_ into light, bright white and yellow, searing red and orange, swirling up higher and higher. The sweat dripped down her spine, and it was all she could do to hold her wand aloft and focus. It scorched her skin as the heat seeped into her through her wand, scalding her from the outside in. It was pleasure and pain all wrapped up in one glorious explosion of heat.

As one, a few immeasurable moments later, the witches lowered their wands. They walked around the fire, burning bright, one last time going widdershins. The feeling didn’t leave Ginny as they walked counterclockwise, but it became less overpowering. On the last footfall, she could finally think again. The chant no longer thundered in her ears or beat against her lips demanding to be spoken.

Each of them stepped away from the fire, and took a moment to come back to themselves. Ginny couldn’t help but feel it was similar to their meditations. She let her mind wander as she stepped away from the ritual and mused on the fact that she had been single mindedly focused on the rite throughout the whole encounter. Like with her meditations, she always took a few moments at the end to just relax, to center herself, to refocus.

As they reconvened, the first words out of her mouth to Luna were “You were right. I don’t even want to know what that would have been like if we hadn’t been meditating all month. Even with that, I think I still almost lost it. I’m not sure I was really myself that whole time.”

Luna was as serene as ever, sporting only a slight smile and a faint blush from the fire. Whether from the heat specifically, or from the ritual itself and the power they had called upon, Ginny wasn’t sure.

“Of course. I’m usually right.” Ginny just rolled her eyes at her friend.

“That was _brilliant._ ” Hermione was smiling as bright as Ginny had ever seen her, and unlike Luna her whole face was flush. “I’ve never experienced anything like it. It was like the tingle you get when you successfully cast a spell for the first time, but a hundred times stronger and along my whole body.” She grabbed a strand of her hair and pulled it in front of her eyes with a frown. “I’m surprised I’m not more bushy.”

Ginny and Luna cracked up at that, and through unspoken agreement each witch moved towards the picnic basket they had set up. It was filled with many of the traditional feast foods of Imbolc. Dumplings, colcannon, barmbrack, and bannocks made up most of their feast, but interspersed were a few dishes the girls were more used to seeing.

They first pulled out some blankets to lay on, so they weren’t lying directly on the hard earth. Too many had been packed, because apparently house elves had never heard of the word ‘moderation’ before. Ginny left a pretty light blue colored blanket, and a pristine white sheet inside, preferring to use the fuzzy plaid blankets that had been packed instead.

As Ginny set down the blankets, she eyed the hard-packed earth surrounding the fire pit. She couldn’t tell for certain, but it seemed as though there was more space between the edge of the fire pit and where the snow sat than what the three girls had cleared away. Had some snow melted during the ritual? If so, she hadn’t noticed, and now she couldn’t tell for sure.

The food all came out of the basket piping hot, and bottles of warmed butterbeer were passed around. The three girls lazed and ate while basking in the heat of the fire, coming down off the intense feelings from their magical workings.

Later on, none of them would be able to say who had kicked off the conversation first, but soon they were all joking and laughing about their classes.

Luna continued to give Hermione funny looks every now and again when Hermione mentioned certain classes, but Ginny paid it no mind. Her colcannon was too good, and the butterbeer too sweet to worry about it. Eventually, after one long round of laughter, Hermione asked a question.

“Where in the world did you get all this food? Did you make it yourselves?”

“Well, the kitchens of course. Where else would one get food?” As always, Luna was matter of fact in her answer.

Hermione’s mouth made a slight ‘o’ before she sucked in a lip and bit it as she thought. “Who makes all our food? Only, I can’t believe I’ve never thought about it before. For the life of me I can’t recall it in _Hogwarts: A History_. Does Hogwarts employ a chef, or a cooking staff? Are there magical implements to prepare the food? I know your Mum, Ginny, prepares all her food herself, but is that true of all witches and wizards? Are there pots and pans that have enchantments and charms on them to know exactly how long to cook something? I suppose it would get to be rather like _Sorcerer’s Apprentice_ quite quickly if _everything_ was enchanted.”

Ginny and Luna just shared a smile as Hermione rambled away. They had quickly gotten used to her penchant of speaking her mind quite freely. They had wondered once whether her mind was just a non-stop series of questions.

“The house elves are the cooking staff, I suppose. Though I’m not sure what their wages are like, if they get any. So, I don’t know if they’d be considered ‘staff,’ as such.” Luna answered first.

“Also, what in Merlin’s name is the _Sorcerer’s Apprentice?_ Being called a Sorcerer fell out of fashion ages ago, no one does it anymore. And I think apprenticeships fell out of fashion even earlier?”

“No, don’t you have to be taken on as an Apprentice to get a Mastership in a specific field after Hogwarts?”

“Wait, really? People consider studying past their NEWTS? I thought that was a myth!”

“Could we focus, please?” Hermione interrupted them. “ _Sorcerer’s Apprentice_ is part of an old Muggle film, _Fantasia,_ where Mickey Mouse steals his master’s magic hat, and uses its powers to make everything turn alive so he doesn’t have to clean anything. But that’s not important. What are house elves? And what do you mean about them not getting paid?”

“Who is Mickey, and why is he a Mouse? Or is Mouse his surname? What an odd surname. Also, why would he steal a cursed hat? Hermione, you really need to take Ginny and I into the Muggle world and show us all the things we’re missing out on. Muggle’s interpretations of magic must be fascinating. We should go to the film-place and see _Fantasia!_ Oh, wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

“The house elves. Not receiving payment. Are they a magical creature of some sort?” Hermione managed to look both determined and smug as she said that; magical creatures always trumped Luna’s interest in anything else.

“You know, I’m not sure? My first guess would have been magical Being, but based on how smart some of those creature in your Care of Magical Creatures class were, according to your description, I’m not sure. I’d have to find out what the specific rules are. Regardless, they can speak and think and read and write, so I think it’s safe to assume they’re Beings.”

“Even if they do have something of a one-track mind.” Ginny muttered.

“Well why wouldn’t they be getting paid, then?” Hermione seemed to be getting more and more distraught as the conversation went on, tugging on locks of her hair and winding them up tighter and tighter.

“Well, because lots of families don’t pay the ones that work for them. I think it’s supposedly an insult in their culture? But Headmaster Dumbledore has always been a progressive sort of fellow, or so Daddy has always said. Paying them seems like the kind of thing he might do?” Luna seemed to offer that last bit as a peace offering, hoping to head off Hermione’s incoming rant. Hermione seemed to take it as such, because instead of becoming apoplectic, she instead became morose.

“But… that’s so terrible.”

“Cheer up, Hermione. We can always find some books about their culture and read up a bit. And worst comes to worst, there’s, like, a _gazillion_ of them down in the kitchens. We can always just go talk to them later. At the very least, you’ll get to thank them for our feast.” Ginny wouldn’t look forward to reading books about house elves, but she’d bring it up and power through it if it meant cheering up Hermione.

Hermione perked up at that. Ginny had noticed she seemed to be in a better mood when there was a plan of action available to solve her problems.

“Now, tell us about this Muggle-Film-Place where you’re taking us to see a magical mouse? Is Mickey at all like Babbitty Rabbitty?” Ginny much preferred Luna’s jump back to that conversation; way more fun, far less depressing.

Hermione just rolled her eyes. “I’ve no idea who Babbitty Rabbitty is, but he might be like Bugs Bunny. Yes, fine, I’ll take you both to the cinema. But I doubt they’d be playing _Fantasia_ , it came out in the ‘40’s I think. We probably have the VHS at home. I’ll take you both to see some other film over the summer.”

Warm as the fire was, Ginny still noticed the shiver go through Hermione as she spotted the gleam in Luna’s eyes.


	8. Sinking

Their conversation meandered along, finding new and different topics while the fire burned steadily. It stayed at the same height without any additional logs added onto the fire long into the night, as the crescent moon climbed the sky. As the moon neared its peak, the girls all began packing their leftovers back into the picnic basket.

They took up their positions around the fire, and Ginny was glad to see she wasn’t the only one nervous. This would be the make or break moment.

Even though she had felt the lingering power of their ritual caressing her skin as they basked in the glow of the fire, and the building pressure as they had chanted and circled, Ginny had never done this before. She was worried they may have messed up something drastic.

The fact of the matter was, three witches casting the Fire-Making Spell at some dried-out logs would easily create a large bonfire. The true test was whether or not, when they reached their hands in the fire to grab a few logs or embers, the fire burned them or not.

If they had done the first rite correctly, it would be set up for them to continue to the second stage of the ritual, a purification and protection rite. If they had failed, then when they reached into the fire, it would be a normal flame.

Ginny had faith in their ritual, but there was a niggling concern about how she’d explain the burn marks to her Mum. She was already going to have a hard enough time with her new scar.

A deep breath in, and the three girls made eye contact, before plunging their hands into the fire.

It was like diving into the pond out behind the Burrow during the summer. Not hot or cold, but comfortable. Refreshing almost, in the way that it felt like exactly what she needed. Odd, considering how closely they had been huddling to the fire earlier in the night to stave off the cold of the winter air while they feasted.

Ginny grasped the first solid piece she felt and pulled out a glowing piece of firewood. It was small and slim, a broken piece of a larger whole. All three of them trailed towards Hagrid’s hut, Ginny following Hermione following Luna who were each grasping their own glowing kindling. They spread out, circling the hut until they were each stationed around it, out of sight from each other.

In. Out. Breathe.

Luna’s voice, serene and steady, lilting and lingering, wafted over the air to brush against her ears.

“The Winter ends, but danger abounds

We call upon the Sun, upon the light which surrounds

Underneath the Moon, the reflection of Power

All shadows cleared ‘way, all taint shall we scour

Every day hence, as the Light shines brighter

Be not just replenished, but bound ever tighter.”

Once more, Ginny felt the power they were wielding seep through her, into her bones and coursing through her blood. Her hair stood on end along her arms and legs, and all down her back, as she heard a high pitched _hissssssssssssss_.

She listened and stood still as the sound of Luna’s fire-cracked log being put out at the base of Hagrid’s hut was the only sound in the air. Before the hiss died down all the way, Hermione’s voice joined in with Luna’s and they repeated the chant.

“The Winter ends, but danger abounds

We call upon the Sun, upon the light which surrounds

Underneath the Moon, the reflection of Power

All shadows cleared ‘way, all taint shall we scour

Every day hence, as the Light shines brighter

Be not just replenished, but bound ever tighter.”

The _hissssssssssssss_ reached Ginny’s ears as it grew stronger again, a crescendo against the silent night, almost as though it was one continuous noise, rather than two. She could feel the log in her hand begin to heat up. It warmed quickly, becoming hotter in her grip. Her wand heated up in time with it, pleasant warmth becoming uncomfortably hot, becoming searing pain, starting in both hands but then coursing up her arms and through her body.

She opened her mouth to speak, and the voices of her friends spoke with her. She wasn’t sure how they all kept in time, and she didn’t care.

For all that it was a terrible pain, she endured, body stiff and hands on fire, her voice was steady as she spoke. The words were stronger than any pain, the power encompassing her. Each word acted as a balm against the scorching heat threatening to engulf her body.

“The Winter ends, but danger abounds

We call upon the Sun, upon the light which surrounds

Underneath the Moon, the reflection of Power

All shadows cleared ‘way, all taint shall we scour

Every day hence, as the Light shines brighter

Be not just replenished, but bound ever tighter.”

She reached forward with log and wand, pushing into the ground where it met the hut. Her wand throbbed in her hand as it touched the log, too hot to hold, but too hot to let go. She felt her fingers creak as she gripped it tighter. The snow melted away, and the log hissed as it sublimated and disintegrated at the point of contact, turning into smoke and ash. Smoke rose from the ashes and the puddle on the earth of melted snow as she pushed the log in to the ground.

The next words the witches spoke, again in unison, came out as a whisper. Ginny wasn’t sure at all if she was actually hearing their voices reach her on the wind, or if it was all in her head.

“We call upon you! Arise! Become! Cleanse! _Protego Malvoluntae!”_

The smoke continued to rise, and Ginny saw streams of smoke from Luna and Hermione rise as well. The three lines of smoke met at the center, above Hagrid’s hut, then whirled downwards again, creating a dome around the home. Black, empty tendrils of _something_ were sucked out of the air from within the dome of smog and filtered out as cascading smoke to diffuse into the air.

As the dome smoldered, the fumes rose and twirled, and the log in her hand disappeared into ash, the pressure holding her tight faded. The uncomfortable and painful sensations of heat ebbed away as well, and the protective dome of smoke dissipated. She was left feeling warm and content under the moonlight.

She paused, as before, to close her eyes and her mind. She centered herself once more, allowing her thoughts to come to her, recognizing them, thinking them, but them letting them float away again like the smoke rose from the ashes. It was harder in that moment than it had ever been while practicing alone in her room, but she forced herself to focus.

She stepped back.

Silently, the three girls walked towards their still roaring fire, and by silent agreement none of them spoke until they were all sitting down.

It was Hermione that spoke first.

“I am so glad we chose a ritual with three distinct rites in it. I know I said we should choose one that wouldn’t last all night, but I’m glad you two convinced me. If there was even a _chance_ that performing a ritual with a single rite would have compounded the magic we were casting? That we would have felt it all at once, instead of as three parts?” She shuddered.

“There’s no way Luna or I could have _ever_ cast a spell that strong. A long-lasting Shield Charm, anchored as a Ward, of that caliber? We can barely do the _regular_ Shield Charm as it is! Yeah, the fact that there was enough power in one third of our ritual to cast something like that is absurd.”

Luna nodded along with Ginny as she mentioned their extracurricular training in DADA and Shield Charms. The three shared a few moments of silence, as they relaxed by the fire, basking in the upswell of emotions brought on by their second rite. It was Luna, unsurprisingly, who eventually broke the silence.

“Shall we try the divinations?”

Ginny smiled, and reached into their basket to pull out the tools she’d painstakingly worked on over the past month.

“I’ve a set for each of us!” she pronounced, holding out the sets of small wooden staves.

She handed four each to both Hermione and Luna, keeping four for herself.

“Like the ancient wizard Dalan, who had not the Sight but had knowledge and wisdom, so too shall we find our own answers!” Ginny said in an overly pompous tone, a smirk on her lips.

Luna giggled and Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m still not entirely convinced that Divination, even when it’s not looking into the future per se, isn’t just a bunch of nonsense. But when in Rome, yeah?”  

“Actually, it’s more like-.” Luna began, before Ginny interrupted.

“Yeah, yeah, you both know a lot of history. Don’t step over my one bit of historical Divination trivia so quickly! Let me have my moment!”

“Is Ginny being ridiculous?” Luna asked, as she threw her four carved sticks of yew high in the air.

Ginny couldn’t help but look affronted as Luna peered at the sticks with all due seriousness, even going so far as to consult the book they’d brought with them with the different meanings of each Ogham rune. She eventually looked up and intoned:

“All signs point to yes.”

Hermione cracked up then, and shortly after had to explain to them what a Magic Eight Ball was. This prompted a long discussion on whether or not a witch or wizard could use such a device to _actually_ divine something. It was distinctly Muggle, but then again, weren’t tarot cards just fancy playing cards, which were used by Muggles all the time? The only conclusion they came to was a possible “maybe, we’d have to experiment.”

The night was also filled with random questions and divinations, as anytime they had a thought they didn’t know the answer to, or had an opportunity to ask an interesting question, they’d throw their sticks to the air and read them as they fell.

But as the night wore on Ginny noticed Hermione get more and more tense, fidgeting more often and gripping her carved staves tighter. Eventually, during a lull in the conversation, Ginny noticed her take in a deep breath before she muttered into the night an unexpected question.

“Are Harry and Ron still my friends?”

Ginny and Luna both very carefully didn’t look at the results, not wanting to intrude.

“Three to the right was Tinne, and four to the right was Coll, right? What did those mean, again?” Hermione’s voice wavered as she asked.

Ginny consulted the book.

“Did you want _Morainn mac Moín_ , _Maic ind Óc_ , or _Con Culainn_?”

“All three, if you don’t mind?”

“ _Morainn mac Moín_ is One of Three Parts of a Wheel and Fairest Tree respectively. _Maic ind Óc_ is Marrow of Coal and Friend of Nutshells. _Con Culainn_ is One of Three Parts of a Weapon and Sweetest Tree.”

They stood in the silence. Ginny didn’t want to make assumptions, but that all seemed like something of a good sign. But it was Hermione’s throw to read, and reading into it without permission was rude, according to the book she’d read on Divination. The very book she was holding, in fact.

Luna, apparently, hadn’t read that section of the book.

“Well that seems rather on the nose, doesn’t it?”

“Does it?” Ginny couldn’t tell if Hermione was trying to hold back laughter or tears, but either way it was a strained noise she made. “I suppose it does, though I don’t think of myself as very sweet. I’m rather abrasive, haven’t you noticed? Something of a nag, Ron always says.”

Her voice pitched lower with each sentence.

“Isn’t this just the excuse they need to finally get rid of me? They didn’t need me last year when, well.” She gave a quick glance at Ginny, then looked away again. Ginny resolutely ignored it.

“The scientific method, then.” Luna declared.

That was enough, it seemed, to snap Hermione out of whatever somber mood had been enveloping her. Ginny just tilted her head in confusion, and questioned “What the bloody hell does science have to do with magic? Isn’t that a Muggle thing?”

“Not really.” Hermione interrupted. “It was first formalized by Francis Bacon, who was a Muggle, and was really a part of a whole mindset from that time period. He drew a lot of inspiration from Copernicus and Galileo, both of whom were also Muggles. But, they both worked closely with Nicholas Flamel, although that isn’t well known; at the time, everyone thought Flamel had died. Obviously, Flamel was a wizard, and shortly after the Statute of Secrecy passed, he came out to the Wizarding World proving he was still alive because he’d developed a revolutionary new theory he wanted to share. So, you could say that the scientific method is both Muggle and Magical, although I don’t know how common it is in current day magical academia.”

“Did you even take a breath?” Was Ginny’s only response. She was glad to see it caused Hermione to smile, if only slightly.

“ _Back on point,_ ” Luna interrupted “use the scientific method. If it was a fluke, then using different methods of Divination will provide different results. But if you can get it as a repeatable effect, say three times in a row? Then you know it’s likely true.”

Hermione looked up at Luna, and Ginny could see both fear and desperation shining in her eyes. So, she threw in her own two knuts as well.

“Honestly, the worst that happens is that you still don’t know for sure. You’ve already got one good answer. If you get a bad answer, it just means it’s all a load of crock and you won’t know for sure, which puts you right back where you started.”

That seemed to give her the resolve she needed. “What else did we have planned? Divination wise, I mean?”

Ginny was only marginally surprised when Luna looked to her to answer the question. Sure, she’d been the most interested in the Divination book they’d found, but Luna had read most of it too!

“Well, we could always do a bit of Geomancy. That doesn’t require much that needs to be prepared. I only prepared the sticks of yew for us. Let me think.”

She closed her eyes to think, and heard Luna whisper “It wasn’t all she prepared. 5 knuts says she practiced that ‘Druid Dalan, Sight vs. knowledge’ line for days.”

“No bet.” Hermione responded. Ginny resolutely ignored both of them as she thought.

_I’d planned to do some nephomancy tomorrow afternoon, but I wouldn’t want to do cloud-divining at night. Too hard to see. Doesn’t arithmancy have some Divination uses? Hermione would have mentioned that, though. Weren’t offerings made to ‘earth and sea’ on Imbolc? Geomancy for earth, could we do one of the forms of hydromancy? What was that one that was about still water in a basin? Do we even have a basin? I’m almost positive I didn’t bring any extra bowls! Shoot, what do we have?_

Ginny slapped her forehead when she realized how dumb she was being.

_Imbolc is all about FIRE and purification! We have a giant fire right here! Oh, I’m so dumb._

“Geomancy and some form of Pyromancy. Luna, hand me that book? If we want just a simple yes or no, we could always do it by smoke, Capomancy? Capnomancy? Something like that. If there’s any salt in the picnic basket, we could see how it burns. You do the geomancy, and I’ll keep reading.”

Ginny flipped through the book and listened with one ear as Luna and Hermione went about gathering the stones they’d be throwing for their geomantic divination. They didn’t wander too far from the fire, whether out of a fear of the cold or fear of Dementors, Ginny wasn’t sure. Either way, they eventually came back, and Ginny had found the pages she wanted. She didn’t much like her answers, but figured she’d hold off until after the Geomancy. Hermione might not want to do a third one, after all.

“Ginny, come look at this. And bring the index for Geomancy, will you?” Well that was either a very good sign, or a very bad one based on Hermione’s tone of voice. High pitched and slightly strained. It wasn’t often Hermione didn’t trust her own memory, which was like an iron trap.

“Please count them again? Make sure I’m not crazy?” Ginny did, and it was surprisingly easy to see the deviations in the four ‘rows’ of tossed rocks. Usually Geomancy was done with drawn lines, but tossed stones or sticks was also a valid method for the simpler divinations where only one figure was being divined.

“Eight rocks. Two for the head. 11 rocks. One for the neck. 15 rocks. One for the body. 14 rocks. Two for the feet. That makes it…” Ginny double checked her chart. “The Conjunction, Conjuctio. Things coming together, neutral except in joining or recovering things, in which it is distinctly a good sign. I think that makes us two for two. Do you believe it now, Hermione? They may be mad at you, but they’re still your friends. And they’ll come back to you soon enough.”

Hermione bit her lip, staring intently at the stones as though they held the answers to all her problems.  Perhaps they did, perhaps they didn’t, but Ginny wasn’t about to judge.

“One more? Luna said three, and if there’s one more that says the same then I’ll be able to believe it. If one's an incident, two's a coincidence, and three's a pattern, right?”

Ginny sighed.

“So, I don’t know if it’s just this book, but… well. Pyromancy would be best, especially on Imbolc night. But the kind of Pyromancy the Druids used isn’t really something we would consider.”

“Why’s that?”

“It works best with a sacrifice.”

She heard Hermione’s gasp, and felt Luna’s piercing stare, but she kept her eyes firmly on the book in front of her. She trudged on.

“We could do other methods. If we have any salt we can do that. We can check the smoke as it travels. If we hadn’t chosen this particular ritual, we could have spread the cold ashes at the foot of a hearth, then checked it in the morning for markings and movements. But to get an answer out of the soot and ashes while the fire is hot? That’s our best bet for anything more than just a vague positive or negative, it’s called Spodomancy. The thing is, we’d need a sacrifice. And we already have plans for all the cold ashes for the third rite.”

“What… what do we have to sacrifice?” Hermione’s voice made Ginny looked up sharply. She was thankful that both Luna and Hermione had their gazes averted.

“It could be anything.” She offered tentatively “Something personal of yours, sacrificed to the fire. An animal. A bit of blood.”

Hermione mumbled something that Ginny didn’t catch, but Luna obviously did by the sharp intake of breath she took.

Hermione stood, resolutely, and approached the fire. “How do I… sacrifice… my blood?”

Ginny really didn’t want to answer that question, but Hermione’s eyes were boring into her so fiercely she relented.

“Like before, focus intently on your question. Let it consume you; it should be the only thing on your mind. Then, at the moment it feels right, draw blood and mix it into the fire. Grab the soot and ash it mingles with, and then we’ll cast it, read it, mark it, and read it again.”

Hermione’s walked up to the fire, firm and steady, almost resigned, while Ginny reached into the picnic basket and grabbed the extra white blanket they hadn’t pulled out before. She shook it out and laid it flat. As a last minute thought, she grabbed her wand and flicked it at the white sheet with a muttered “ _Colovaria._ ” The outline of a black circle appeared on the sheet. Ginny smiled to herself at her success; she was rather proud of that. She’d only just managed to get partial color transformations consistently earlier that week.

The somber mood kept her from celebrating out loud, though.

Ginny and Luna walked up behind Hermione, who was gazing intently into the fire. Wand in one hand, she pointed it towards her open palm with a whispered “ _Diffindo._ ” In an instant her palm welled with blood, and she reached it into the fire. The blood dripped, and hissed in the heat, but didn’t evaporate. Her blood mingled with the ashes and soot, and they gave it a few moments to fully soak in. After a quickly muttered “ _Episkey.”_ Hermione reached into the flames and grabbed her blood soaked soot.

She looked at Ginny, eyebrows raised, so Ginny whispered “Hold onto that for just a moment.”

Because watching her getting ready to perform the divination had awoken something inside Ginny. She couldn’t put a name on it, but it was a nebulous concept that wormed its way into her mind. A feeling of _I can’t let her do this alone_ mixed with _I want to try this too, so badly, I want to try this too._

Because this? This was blood magic. Simple, easy, the definition of unharmful. But still, blood magic all the same. Magic involving blood was looked upon with distrust a lot of the time. Blood magic didn’t _have_ to be dark magic. This divination certainly wasn’t dark; it just _was_. But a lot of dark magic did involve blood, in one way or another. If she didn’t take the opportunity to practice a non-dark piece of blood magic now, when she wasn’t the first one to participate, when else would she?

So, whatever the reason was, she walked up to the fire as well, and pointed her wand at her opposite palm. The incantation was on the tip of her tongue, but at the last second she couldn’t get it out. Her shoulder ached, lightly, where the scar resided, and she felt her gut churn in fear at the thought of _sting, pain, hurt._

She grit her teeth, and flexed the muscles down her back, forcing the tension out, and forced out “ _Diffindo._ ” It did sting, but not nearly so much as she remembered. Se let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding so tightly, and focused on her question.

_Am I safe at Hogwarts?_

It was something she’d been worrying about for a long time. She knew that Hogwarts as a whole had a lot of danger in it. The Dementors, for one thing. But the bullies for another. Heck, Sirius Black had tried to break into their Common Room. Even without the leering presence of Tom hanging over her shoulder, she could still see the cracks in the wall, could see where the ‘safety’ of Hogwarts was mostly a myth.

But just because Hogwarts wasn’t danger free, didn’t mean she wasn’t _safe_. There were professors who were supposed to be watching out for them. They were told nearly daily that they were being looked after, that the danger was far removed from them, but Ginny didn’t trust it. She wanted to know, with some level of certainty, that she could let her guard down at Hogwarts, at least a little.

It was little more than wishful thinking, but she couldn’t help but feel hope while she stood in the light of their ritual fire, burning hot enough to warm, but not so hot it would burn.

With a single-minded intensity, the kind she only got through silent meditation and mindfulness, and even then only briefly, she held her question in her mind. When the question consumed her, she moved her hand into the flames. Her blood had pooled in her palm as she focused, and as she tipped it over, it all came cascading down. The scarlet flowing down her palm flashed through the flickering cinnabar blaze, mingling with the gray soot and ash, hissing as it lit up the embers.

Her head whipped up as she heard Luna mutter the same spell and saw her slice open her palm from across the fire. They locked eyes as Luna tilted her own hand into the fire. As one, they both pulled back their hands and incanted “ _Episkey._ ” before reached into the roiling fire to grab their soot and ash.

“Honestly,” Hermione muttered “sometimes you two are so in sync it’s _creepy_. Now, what are we doing next?”

Ginny flicked her wand at the white sheet again, with another whispered _“Colovaria”_ and two more black circles appeared.

“Each of us will claim a circle and toss our soot into the circle. Again, we need to hold our question in our mind as we ask. The same question, the same wording, the same cadence. Identical. This is a more advanced form of Divination, and it means we need to be more particular in how we ask the question. When the moment is right, toss it. You’ll feel it.”

“‘ _You’ll feel it’_ she says. I told you this was a wooly subject.” Hermione sniffed, but her eyes were alight with an intensity that Ginny had only rarely seen. She was holding herself aloof, but only because it was so important to her; that was Ginny’s guess.

The three girls stood, focusing on their questions. Getting back into that quasi-meditative state, and letting their mind focus on only one question.

_Am I safe at Hogwarts?_

The question circled her mind, like a broom round a Quidditch pitch, like the smoke on the wind, until she felt the world come into focus. It was like the world froze, moved in slow motion, and she felt a shiver run up her spine. Her body was almost out of her control as she flung her hand high, then sharply down, the soot sinking through the air as it settled into her circle.

She looked up to see Hermione staring down at her soot as well. Ginny couldn’t remember seeing her throw it.

Luna still held her ash in her hand, and her eyes had a far away and glassy look. Then her lips curled, into something almost like a smile, and she did a twirl before releasing her soot high into the air. It sprinkled down slowly, into her circle.

“Now is the first step. Is it smooth, or clumped? If it’s smoothed, it’s a good omen, a positive answer to your question. Note, not positive as in an affirmative answer, positive as in the answer you would most want. If it’s in clumps, it’s a bad omen. An answer you don’t want. We can either stop here, or make marks to divine further.”

Ginny looked down and saw that Hermione and Luna both had smoothly layered, evenly distributed soot lining their circles. She looked at her own circle and grimaced. Clumps of soot, gathered together, not smoothed out at all. A bad omen; not unexpected, really, but still disheartening. Was it even worth it to follow up? She knew quite well what dangers Hogwarts presented. Why waste the time and magic to confirm her fears?

She looked at her fellow witches and gave them the instructions outlined in the book.

“If you want to read further into it, you’ll need write your question in the soot. Either with your finger or a twig, doesn’t much matter. Then we’ll let it sit overnight and read it in the morning.”

Both girls looked at each other before bending over to begin writing in the soot. As all three of them walked away, they made sure to keep their eyes away from the question that was written. They may have known what Hermione’s general question was, but they didn’t know the specific way it had been worded. She might have added something extra specific to the question. It was just polite not to pry.

They left their soot by the fire, a close enough approximation to a hearth, before settling back down again. After such an intense series of divinations, not a single one of them was much in the mood for laughter. Instead, each girl just lay near each other, and watched the moon as it traveled on the last legs of its journey towards the horizon. They started pointing out constellations as they knew them, and whatever stories or facts they’d learned about them in Astronomy, or from home. It was a calm, starry night, and Ginny basked in the simple pleasure of enjoying the company of her friends.


	9. Skimming

The fire began to dwindle, after hours of burning strong it was finally beginning to grow weaker and softer. It crackled and spit as the flames died and the logs broke down. Soon enough, the moon began to hide itself away, and the Sun peeked over the edge. As the Sun finally crested the horizon, the fire sputtered out its last breath, leaving only embers and ash behind.

Ginny had made sure they brought bowls from the kitchens, one for each of them, specifically for this part of the ritual. She handed out an empty bowl to each witch before moving towards the embers.

Each girl took up their regular position around the ashes of their ritual fire, silent and solemn. They all reached in with their wands, bowls held in the opposite hand, so the points were touching at the center of the piles. They drew back in a straight line, creating three distinct piles of ash. They each took the pile to their right and gathered up all the ash into their bowl.

Without a word, they each walked to Hagrid’s garden, which they had spent some time clearing of snow earlier in the night after their second rite and settled themselves into a triangle.

As the Sun fully came into view, spreading more light into the world, they began.

Ash was laid out behind them, trailing them, as they walked deosil around the garden, point to point in a curve, creating a circle of ash. Embers still glittered in the ash, the soot still warm to the touch, but not burning them.

They finished the circle and made eye contact. It felt like they were cut off from the world, in their own magical circle. The problems of the outside world melted away. No worries about fracturing friendships, no concerns for safety, no judgement from those who didn’t understand. The only thing of importance was the here and now, that exact moment, as the potential and pressure built up before them.

Hermione started their final rite.

“The Sun now rises, the Dawn has begun

And with its return, the Spring shall be spun

Into existence, to beat back the cold

We’ll string out new visions of green and of gold

As the Spring is born, and it’s first breath is drawn

We drive back the Winter, and invite the Sun’s Dawn.”

She started off quietly, almost unsure of herself, but by the last word Hermione’s voice rang strong and true, confident and proud. Her voice echoed into Ginny’s chest, and as her voice rose so too did the pressure filling the circle between them.

On Hermione’s last utterance, she reached into her bowl and tossed out a handful of the ash. More ash than should have fit in her hand sprinkled down, falling like a deep fog twinkling with angry red sparks.

Once more, their resolve was tested. If their ritual was working as intended, they’d be able to breath normally in the ash, as though it was simple air. Otherwise they were going to be coughing and hacking and interrupting the ritual. Everything Ginny had ever read on that, said it would be a very bad thing.

So with a thundering in her ears and sweat dripping down her back, the feeling of heat and pressure pushing down on her, she opened her mouth wide and drew in a long, deep breath.

Air, as sweet and fresh as any Spring breeze filled her lungs, and she smiled as she exhaled.

Luna and Hermione spoke next, equal sized grins adorning their faces as well.

““The Sun now rises, the Dawn has begun

And with its return, the Spring shall be spun

Into existence, to beat back the cold

We’ll string out new visions of green and of gold

As the Spring is born, and it’s first breath is drawn

We drive back the Winter, and invite the Sun’s Dawn.”

Once again, they both reached into their bowls of soot, and threw their ashes into the air. It drifted down, blanketing the ground within their circle, but never touching even a spot outside of it. Ashes filled the air and the ground, becoming even darker as it twirled and glittered with cinders. A light breeze passed by, and all it managed to do was send the ash swirling faster.

Ginny could feel the tension in her limbs as they all watched, enraptured with their workings, as her turn to add her power and intent to the ritual came closer.

Each girl tried to peer through the cloud before them, through the soot that now almost thoroughly covered the ground and completely filled the air. And though she couldn’t see them, Ginny was sure they made eye contact with each other, and in unison they chanted once more.

“The Sun now rises, the Dawn has begun

And with its return, the Spring shall be spun

Into existence, to beat back the cold

We’ll string out new visions of green and of gold

As the Spring is born, and it’s first breath is drawn

We drive back the Winter, and invite the Sun’s Dawn.”

None of them bothered with reaching into their bowls for a handful. They all shoved their bowls in the air, the soot escaping and flying before them. The cloud darkened, and they all breathed in deeply.

Heat and pressure and tension filled Ginny, and it was all she could do to hold her breath as they waited for the dust to settle. Finally, after an agony of waiting, the soot settled completely. As one, the witches let out their breath and shouted their chant for the last time, wands pointed down towards the center of the circle.

“We call upon you! Arise! Become! Cleanse! _Crescentum Herbivicus!_ ”

The ash seemed to dissolve into the soil of Hagrid’s garden. There was a flash of golden light, blinding in its intensity, the same color as the approaching Sun peeking through the mountains. The soil looked richer, fuller, less ravaged by the snow in the aftermath of the light. Sprouting up all around the edge of their ash circle were rushes, growing at an unnaturally fast pace. After a few short moments the rushes reached about knee height and stopped growing abruptly.

Ginny stepped back from the ash circle, and for the last time closed her eyes. She let her mind wander, floating from thought to thought, images flickering through her mind. Luna’s slightly flushed face, Hermione’s visage lit up by the glow of the fire, the whirlwind of ash and ember during their last rite. Emotions and thoughts, she let them ebb and flow within her mind. She let them come and let them go as easy as she could.

A low thrumming, pounding in the back of Ginny’s head, in time with her heart beat, slowly bled out of her body and mind until it was little more than the whisper of a memory. It had been subtle, and she only noticed it for its absence. Once it slipped away though, she noticed how it had been a constant companion throughout the night, urging her on through the entirety of the ritual.

As wonderful as the long night had been, it was at that moment that Ginny realized she hadn’t ever truly _relaxed_ throughout the night. She was more relaxed during the ‘down time’ between rites than she was during the rites themselves, but she hadn’t realized how amped up and tense she had been throughout the night as a whole.

She opened her eyes to see Hermione and Luna also taking a few moments to re-center. She smiled as she waited for them, and began packing up their blankets and left-over food. On a whim, she also pulled bundles of the rushes that had grown around the edge of Hagrid’s garden.

Hermione and Luna came over to help her pull up the rushes, the three working silently together.

Hagrid came out at some point, heralding his approach with a loud yawn. He noticed them and gave them a strange look.

“Didn’ think yeh’d be out here still. Are yeh mad!? Yeh mus’ be freezin’! Come in, I’ll warm yeh up.”

The witches shared a smile as they went inside the hut; terrible though his rock cakes may be, Hagrid made a mean cup of tea. They sat in a companionable silence, drinking in the tea and its steam to warm up, until suddenly Hagrid spoke up.

“I’ll tell yeh what, had the best night o’ sleep I’ve had in a long while last night, I did. Slep’ like a babe in a cradle, all warm and cozy like.”

He gave the three girls another side-eyed glance. “Yeh wouldn’ happen t’know anythin’ ‘bout that, would yeh?”

They shared a look, but only managed to offer him a sheepish smile.

“Well, I know when I shouldn’ be askin’ questions.” He tapped his finger against his nose and gave them a wink. “Head on back up to the castle now, or yeh’ll miss breakfast.”

Hermione looked at her watch, and gave out a muttered “Oh, bugger. I was hoping I’d have time for a quick nap.”

“Wouldn’t it be convenient if you could be in two places at once, then? You could take a nap _and_ make it to your classes. You could probably even work it so you got breakfast twice! I’d love to learn a spell like that.” Luna said this all airily, but Hermione stiffened.

“Yes, a spell like that would be quite useful. Do Duplication Charms work on live subjects?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know. Just an interesting thought I had, was all.”

Hagrid leaned in to Ginny and whispered “Yeh know what they’re on about?”

Ginny just sighed. “Not a clue. But this is nothing; you should see them when they really get going. I get more lost than a niffler with fool’s gold.”

“That’s pretty lost.” Hagrid was trying and failing to hide his huge grin. Ginny just gave him as bright a smile as she could.

“You’re telling me.”

“Yes, well, ah. I, uh. Are you two coming to breakfast?” Hermione stuttered.

Luna and Ginny shared a quick glance. “No, actually. We still have some food left over, and some more things we wanted to do today. Really experience the whole ‘holiday’ part of it, you know? Cultural experiences, broadening horizons, all that rot.”

Hermione scowled at them. “You’re not just trying to skip class, are you?”

“Well, we will be skipping class, but it’s for important cultural research and experience! Totally a valid reason. Also, we’re going to help Hagrid clean his hut, so it’s not like it’ll be all fun and games.”

“Yeh’re gonna what now?” Apparently, they’d forgotten to tell Hagrid about that part. Ginny gave him a sheepish smile.

“Uh, if that’s alright? Only, it’s Spring now, according to the religion we’re learning about, and today’s traditionally a day for Spring cleaning? We’re celebrating a holiday, see, and we’re trying to do it right.”

Hagrid looked at his tea and scrunched up his face, deep in thought.

“Well, wouldn’ wan’ anyone to think I was stepping on other people’s holidays. That’s jus’ bad manners, that is.” He perked up once he’d settled on a valid reason. “And I could always use more help tidyin’ up. Sure, then. I’d be happy for the help! An’ seein’ as how I’m a Perfessor now, I can write yeh a note to excuse yeh’ from class.”

Hagrid, being the friendly sort that he was, wasn’t the type to often have a mischievous look about him. But the glint in his eye as he thanked them for their help caused a shiver of worry to run its way down Ginny’s back. He looked far too pleased to be having help for it to be as simple as a bit of dusting.

“Well, I’ll be off then. Have fun cleaning, you two. I’ll see you in the dormitories tonight, I suppose. If you’re not back by dinner, I’ll likely come check on you.” Damn Hermione, and her smug smile. Ginny stuck her tongue out at her as she walked away.

“One more cuppa tea, I think, then we’ll get goin’. Sound like a plan, girls?” Once again, Ginny couldn’t help but shudder at the glee in Hagrid’s voice. It was a far cry from his normally innocent and guileless smile.

* * *

Torture. Pure, agonizing, honest-to-Merlin torture. That’s what cleaning Hagrid’s hut had been like. Ginny was covered in grime, muck, and some substances which would not be considered for her fear of naming them. It was a matter of sanity that led Ginny and Luna to mutually agree to never discuss again what some of the things they had _scraped_ off of the underside of Hagrid’s dresser, near where Fang slept, might be.

It was unsurprising, given how deep the dirt was embedded into Hagrid’s hut, that the task took more than just the morning. They’d stopped for a lunch break, to the girl’s delight, before continuing on well into the afternoon. The three friends sat on Hagrid’s newly clean and gleaming stoop, ignoring the portion of the inside of the hut that was still a mess. They sipped on hot chocolate and munched on biscuits as they relaxed.

“I know it’s bad for yeh, but sometimes yeh deserve a treat, don’tcha?” The girls heartily agreed with their large friend.

The three spent their break looking at the clouds, watching them float by. They were just as dark as they had been all year, but Ginny couldn’t help but feel they were less oppressive somehow. They didn’t loom, they didn’t tower, they merely roiled off in the distance. Even still, Ginny didn’t pull out the book on divinations, which was quickly becoming her favorite book, to look up if it had anything on clouds. Even though it was a traditional Imbolc holiday pastime, something that the Druids of old were supposed to do to divine the future, Ginny had a feeling that she already knew what those clouds would portent.

 _Nothing good, that’s what_ she grumbled to herself.

All too soon their lunch was over, and they had continued their cleaning.

When they finally finished, it was one large, smiling half-giant and two glowering girls that marched back to the castle. It was dark out, their holiday officially over, and Hagrid was kind enough to offer to walk them back to the castle.

“That” Ginny announced “was a dirty trick you played. And now that we’ve cleaned your hut, top to bottom, you better keep it clean!” She wagged a finger at him. His smile didn’t waver in the slightest.

“I’ll do my righ’ best, you know that. And it weren’t a trick! You jus’ forgot ter ask when the last time I’d cleaned up was. Think of it as punishment for not tellin’ me yeh was gunna Charm me hut. Not that I don’ appreciate it, mind, I jus’ woulda liked to know, yeh know? A Cheering Charm is just the ticket fer me, I think.” He left them with a wink and a wave, and the girls gave him a wave back to go with their sheepish grins. Obviously he would notice, it was where he lived! They wouldn’t bother correcting him about what Charm they’d used, exactly, or how they’d placed it. Hagrid was understanding, but he wasn’t perfect. He had a few hang ups about certain kinds of magic, and his understanding of the difference between Dark Magic and regular rituals wasn’t something they trusted.

The two girls were knackered, though, and so began the long slog back up to their towers. They wouldn’t have to part ways until the fifth floor, and thankfully knew a shortcut on the first floor, above the ground floor where the entrance hall was, that took them to the fourth floor in only one flight of stairs.

The tapestry hiding their shortcut was home to Zelma “Mutiny” Hammond, a witch who’d ran away to be a pirate. Luna had asked her about her life story on one of their weekend exploration adventures, and they’d learned her nickname was Mutiny because on every ship she’d ever been on, there had always at some point been a mutiny, whether she was the cause of it or not (the pirate vehemently insisted she was _never_ the cause of it). The painting showed her final voyage, where she had at last been promoted to captain, but the mutiny against her had been so ferocious that they had sunken their own ship. She was always frantic, trying to keep her ship just barely afloat, always out of breath.

Luna loved her determination and perseverance. Ginny almost considered being a pirate, Mutiny’s stories were so good.

When Zelma had learned that they were a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor, Zelma had squealed (either in delight, or because her ship had lost another large piece of important-looking wood, Ginny would never know) and told them how she was a Gryffindor herself, and her First Mate, may she rest in peace, had been a Ravenclaw! The only two witches to ever run their own pirate crew!

Mutiny had shared with them her secret passage then, after one more long-winded story about the shortcuts she used to take across dangerous waters to smuggle goods for the crown.

The two girls had been baffled when they’d first found it, but it had proved to be invaluable. It left them at the exact perfect location on the Fifth floor to split up for their Common Rooms, and it covered four floors in what felt like one floors worth of stairs.

“‘Lo, Mutiny! How’s she sailing today?” Ginny yawned as they approached, already reaching for the unassuming stone that would change the plain wall behind the tapestry into a staircase.

“Ahoy, lass! Choppy weather out there, and she’s on her last legs, but the Deloraine will last at least another day!”

The Deloraine would _always_ last at least another day.

“I, eh, well. Bad news, lass! The stairway is, eh, closed at the moment! Can’t be getting in, no ma’am, sorry to say!” Mutiny looked a bit more nervous than normal, larger sweat droplets running down her oil-painted face. It was over exaggerated, but the artist must not have been particularly talented. And Mutiny was far too worried for how calm her waters looked.

“Closed? Whatever for, oh Dread Pirate of the Seven Seas, Captain Mutiny?” Luna fluttered her eyelashes innocently and looked up at the pirate. Neither girl was above a bit of flattery and guile to get what they wanted. What they wanted more than anything else, in that moment, was to not have to walk up four or five more flights of stairs. Luna, being a Ravenclaw, would have to walk up four stories and then one more up the Ravenclaw Tower.

“Repair?” Mutiny put forward, hesitantly.

“Are you telling me, or asking me?” Luna had an almost affronted look as she crossed her arms and pouted. Ginny loved it when Luna got sassy; very few people could keep up with her. Mutiny wasn’t one of them. Ginny just took a step back and hid her smile.

“Telling you?”

“That sounds like another question to me. What kind of repairs does a secret magical stairway need?”

“There was a cave in?” Mutiny was beginning to pull at her frilly collar, and adjust her side-holstered wand.

“A cave in that can’t just be fixed with a simple Repairing Charm? Or where a Levitation Charm won’t just move the rubble out of the way?”

“A cave in of Rock Beetles?”

“Well, their shells are magic resistant…” Luna hummed and bit on her thumb as she thought.

Ginny just rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and they don’t live anywhere near Scotland. They burrow through the stone of _hot_ and _humid_ climates. You wrote about them in Defense Against the Dark Arts last month, remember? We were dealing with household pests, and I said it wasn’t worth it to mention because they don’t live near us.”

“And if you’ll recall, I said that maybe there could be _Migrating_ Rock Beetles who come up north in the summer and go South in the winter! This could be it!”

“Luna. It’s winter right now.”

“Oh. I forgot.” Ginny just gave her a smile and a clap on the shoulder, and then they turned to glare at Mutiny together.

“Zelma. Clementine. ‘Mutiny.’ Hammond. The Third. Why did you lie about the Rock Beetles?” Luna glared at the tapestry, and Ginny wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t spontaneously learn how to wandlessly summon fire at that very moment.

Mutiny gulped. “Well, you see, I, ah.” She wiped the sweat off her face and muttered “I can’t believe I told you my full name. Stupid. Stupid! Fine! I’ll tell you! There’s a stowaway! A little’un, came running out of nowhere, crying her head off! Was headed to run right into me, so I opened up the passageway for her.”

Mutiny paused, gripped the wheel of the Deloraine tighter, and whispered “She cried like I did after me first mutiny gone wrong. I’d organized it, see? Wasn’t my own fault, o’course, the captain at the time was damn near begging for it. Only, no one turned up but me an’ Abigail, my First Mate later on, rest her soul. The whole crew, every one of the landlubbing, rapscallion, lying bastards, they all laughed at me for trying to start a mutiny, even after they’d all agreed to help! Abby and I, we never lived down the shame. Figured I’d have liked a good place to cry, and I figured I’d give one to a girl in need. So, much as I like the two of you, I won’t let you in! I won’t have nobody laughing at her!”

The girls gave each other a sidelong glance, and with a nod firmly turned back to Mutiny.

“We would never make fun of her.”

“Yeah. We’ve been on the other end of that. We wouldn’t do that to someone else. If she’s in there all alone, it might help if she had a shoulder to cry on.” By now, exhaustion had left both girls, gone in the face of a younger student in need. There were so many reasons someone could be crying, but if Mutiny was right, and they were being mocked, well. Ginny and Luna both knew what that was like, first hand.

The single secret stone next to the tapestry depressed slightly, Mutiny’s work no doubt. They’d long ago stopped wondering how she affected the outside world at all. They lifted her tapestry up and peered inside.

Huddled in the steps, crying in the dark, was a girl maybe their age. She had green and silver trim on her robes, and tears running down her cheeks. She looked up at them as they peered in and gave a slight “ _Eep!_ ” The girl rubbed at her eyes furiously with a balled-up fist, then wiped tears away from her cheeks with her palm.

“Sorry,” she started. “Didn’t mean to be in the way.”

Ginny was ashamed to say that her first reaction was to just let go of the tapestry and ignore the crying girl. She’d heard enough about Slytherin’s and their bullying antics from her older brothers over the years. But as she looked down at the small brunette girl and decided to look past the trim of her second-hand robes, she saw Luna from all those months ago laying on the floor with tears in her eyes as three older Ravenclaws looked down at her.

She also saw another Slytherin, a boy with a Muggle last name, high cheekbones, and a charming smile, who was ridiculed for his lack of knowledge of traditional Pureblood customs. She couldn’t help but wonder if a Gryffindor or Ravenclaw had ever found him crying alone in a corridor, and if they’d ignored him as well.

She doubted it; Tom had never been one to cry. But she couldn’t take the chance; if reaching out to the little snake now kept her from biting Ginny later, Ginny would gladly extend a hand in friendship.

“Alright?” She ventured, slowly, as though the girl was little more than a wounded animal.

With a gulp and a leer the girl sneered “What’s it to you?”

“Well,” Luna added “Ginny has a thing of protecting crying girls. I think she secretly wants to be a knight in shining armor. Are you a damsel in distress?”

As always, Luna’s unique way of wording things had a tendency to cut through people’s defenses. This girl was no different. She stared up at Luna, tears almost forgotten, with a bewildered expression on her face.

“Girl’s aren’t knights. She can’t be a knight in shining armor.”

“Why not?”

“Because that isn’t how it works.”

“Oh? Are you sure? I was quite sure I’d seen Ginny heroically defend the poor and downtrodden. Isn’t that what a knight in shining armor does?”

“Well, yes, if they’re a _boy_. Not if they’re a girl. Besides, young ladies should be seen and not heard. They definitely shouldn’t be getting into fights defending anybody.” Her head tilted up as she said that, an imperial air about her. It was undercut, somewhat, by her age and the tear tracks still on her face.

“Oh. Ginny, were you aware that you’re a boy? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m not a boy, Luna. Though I wouldn’t say I’m a lady, either.” She gave a small smile in Luna’s direction.

“Well then, now I’m _thoroughly_ confused.”

“What’s your name?” Ginny ignored Luna in favor of the crying Slytherin.

The girl gathered herself up off the steps and stood with her back as straight as a rod. She let out a little curtsey, and a strained smile graced her face. Ginny got her first real look at the girl as she made a polite and distinctly feminine bow to them.

“I’m Veronica Fawley. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Ginny stared at her, stunned, as a long-buried memory tickled at the back of her mind. She remembered being very young and going to meet her Great-Aunt Muriel for the first time. Her Mum had been beside herself, worried about a million things.

Her Mum had drilled her for what had felt like an eternity on the proper way to curtsey. Ginny had never gotten it quite right. The girl in front of her had just performed it exactly the way Ginny had seen so many other distant family members do it that night; effortlessly and flawlessly. Her Mum had also hammered into her the exact words she was supposed to say when she’d first met her Great-Aunt, and although at the time Ginny had misremembered them, she was sure the way they’d left the girl’s mouth just now had been exactly what her Mum had been hoping for.

Well, at least she knew the girl was a pureblood. Probably one of, in her own Aunt Muriel’s enlightened words, “impeccable breeding.”

Ginny changed her opinion of the girl’s age as she took a closer look at her; definitely younger than Luna and herself. The girl was of average height for a firstie. Her hair was a warm brown, which fell in waves upon her back. It was messy in its current state, but Ginny could see the trappings of having been styled recently. She assumed it had been tasteful, if the girl’s curtsey was anything to go by. She had deep green eyes, the color of forest foliage, rimmed with red at the moment. Her posture was stiff as she came out of the curtsey. Her chin belied her true feelings; it wouldn’t matter how tall she stood, so long as she ducked her chin and hid her face, she’d look unconfident and demure. Although maybe that was the point?

“Nice to meet you, too, firstie. What’s got you hiding in a secret stairway?”

“I didn’t know it was secret, and I wasn’t hiding! Ladies don’t hide.”

“Well it’s tucked away behind a tapestry, so it’s not like it’s advertised, is it? But it’s alright, we just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Not hurt or nothing, are you?”

The girl wrinkled her nose at Ginny’s, admittedly on purpose, poor grammar. Riling up the stuck-up Slytherin’s was always good for a laugh, or so Fred and George always said.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you kindly. I should really be heading back to my Common Room. It’s probably almost curfew.” The girl didn’t look very enthused at the idea of heading back to her dorms, but who was Ginny to tell her where to go? She certainly wasn’t a prefect.

“It’s just barely dusk. You’ve at least two hours until curfew.” Apparently, Luna thought she was a Prefect.

“Yes, well.” Was all the girl said before she scurried off, leaving Ginny and Luna in her wake. They stared at each other for a moment.

“What an odd girl.” Luna commented as they trekked up the staircase.

“I suppose.”

“I wonder why she was crying.”  
  
“She’s a firstie. Probably homesickness.”

“So far away from her Common Room?”

“Well, she is a Slytherin. They might have rules about how a proper little lady is supposed to act. Have you ever seen a Slytherin cry?”

“No, but I’ve never seen a Gryffindor cry either.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“We should help her!”

“Luna, it’s not our problem. We have enough things to worry about on our own. We don’t need to _also_ keep track of some firstie! Luna, if you keep doing that, your face will get stuck like that. If you raise your eyebrows any higher, they’ll shoot right off your face. Luna!”

“So we’ll keep an eye out for her. Glad it’s decided.” The grin that split Luna’s face shone bright in the torchlight of the hallway, and Ginny was tempted to just give in. She knew it would be easier. But she wouldn’t give up!

“Nothing’s been decided, Luna! Luna! Come back here, we’re still-!”

“Goodnight, Ginny, I shall see you in the morning.” Luna’s dreamy voice floated towards her from around the corner as she made the turn up to the Ravenclaw tower, leaving Ginny standing in the hallway by herself.

“That girl will be the death of me, I swear it.”

* * *

The next morning, Ginny was pleased to see Hermione sitting next to Ron and Harry, the three of them laughing together as though they’d never fought. Hermione beamed at her as she walked down from her dorm, and Ginny gave her a wink. She wasn’t sure how Hermione had mended the rift between them, but she was glad of it. She just hoped Hermione had gotten a proper apology out of those two prats.

The day after that, Ginny was pleasantly surprised to find that even after Professor McGonagall returned Harry’s Firebolt saying it was free of tampering, Ron was willing to admit that it had been a good idea to get it checked.

“Well, with as fast as the Firebolt is supposed to go, if it had been tampered with, it would’ve been right scary if something went wrong. Might’ve been too fast to be able to stop! Harry doesn’t have the best track record with Quidditch, truth be told. Brilliant seeker, he is, but he’s got problems with brooms and bludgers, we’ve all seen that. It wouldn’t surprise me if the Firebolt _had_ been a bit wonky. Just let my excitement get the best of me, I think.”

But the day after that, Ginny had to hold in a groan as she approached the Common Room to the worst screaming match of the year so far. Normally, putting a bunch of teenagers into a single communal living space resulted in at least a _few_ fights and hurtful words thrown about. None of that even came close to the shouting match between Hermione and Ron.

“I’m telling you, your evil cat ate my rat! Scabbers has been missing for days now, and I can’t find him anywhere!”

“Ron, it’s not my fault you can’t find Scabbers. It isn’t Crookshanks fault either! You lost Scabbers for a MONTH in our first year, and it didn’t bother you! Why do you suddenly care about him missing for a week!?”

“Well you didn’t have a demon-cat hybrid our first year, did you?!”

“Filch had Mrs. Norris! Loads of other students had cats with them. What makes Crookshanks so special?!”

“I _SAW_ your devil-cat try and eat Scabbers! We all saw it happen! That’s why!”

Ginny winced as she looked around, and saw she was the only one listening. The whole Common Room was mostly deserted by this point, headed down to breakfast. The few people who hadn’t left were either her family members or a few firsties with a bit of leftover cotton stuck in their ears. They probably had snorers in their dorm and hadn’t thought to ask a Prefect Silencing Charm yet; or they were keeping it in to avoid the shouting match. Ginny wasn’t sure.

Ginny walked down to breakfast and sat next to Percy for the first time all school year.

“Morning, Perce. Did Scabbers ever go missing while you had him at Hogwarts?”

“Oh, yes, often. He’s a very precocious rat. He doesn’t seem especially intelligent, but I saw flashes of it now and again. I was never worried about when he went off on one of his little adventures. I’ll admit, the first time it happened I was fraught with worry, but soon after I came to trust him. Scabbers is a reliable rat; he knows I’ll feed him and take care of him, so he always comes back to me.”

“You might want to tell Ron that. He and Hermione are screeching at each other like a pair of married banshees, about Hermione’s cat killing Scabbers.”

Percy went white in the face. “If there’s one thing Scabbers was good at, it was avoiding cats. No cat ever got close to him; did you know I saw him taunt a cat once? I also saw him get away from a full blooded Kneazle at one point. He was quite proficient at escape. I had better go calm Ron down, before he makes a fool of himself even worse than before. I wonder if he could handle the Summoning Charm? It’s what I used every time I needed to find the little rascal but didn’t know where he was.”

Ginny was tempted to head up to see the resolution of the drama, but Luna caught her eye first. In the commotion, Ginny had almost forgotten. They weren’t done yet, the two of them had work to do. There was only a month and a half left. They had another ritual to prepare.


	10. Soaring

Ginny sat at her desk, half listening to Professor Lupin drone on and on about the Babbling Curse.

“It’s a common tactic of many of the more dangerous magical predators to use it on their prey. Many people, when exposed to a victim of the Babbling Curse, will assume that the victim has just gone insane. The ramblings of someone under the effect of the Babbling Curse are almost always incoherent, and the Curse is designed in such a way that the victim can’t simply repeat themselves over and over, if they can even string together coherent sentences at all.”

The man looked haggard and worn as he lectured. He was sitting, as he sometimes did when he looked especially downtrodden, which happened at least once a month. Normally, he was a very active and engaged professor, moving around and doing activities or giving examples. But when he was sick, he was very sick. It must have been one of his bad days; Ginny wondered idly, what disease he must’ve had.

“Would anybody like to volunteer? I’ll be placing the Babbling Curse on you, if you’re willing, and then ask you a few questions afterwards about the experience.”

A boy to Ginny’s left raised his hand and went to the front of the class. Lupin raised his wand, and with a lazy, tired flick murmured “ _Tongloos.”_ The boy, who Ginny should probably have known the name of, but she just couldn’t muster up the energy, began to murmur lowly. Indistinct at first, then slowly growing in volume. Garbled noises, just on the edge of real words, spilled forth from his mouth. Every now and again Ginny would swear that a few real words slipped through.

“As you can see, it would be easy to mistake this for someone just experiencing hallucinations. Many Vampires will use this curse on an unsuspecting Wizard or Witch. In addition to the other symptoms presented by someone who is being targeted by a Vampire, it’s often mistaken for a different cause than the Curse.” With a wave of his wand, the short Slytherin boy ceased his Babbling. “Donald, take a moment to center yourself. That Curse can be very disorienting. When you’re ready, let me know, and you can share your thoughts on the Curse with the class. No, raise of hands, who can provide us with another example of symptoms the victim of a Vampire might have? Yes, Ms. Hobbes, Vampire symptoms?”

Ginny rested her head on her hand, and let her eyes dart out the window. The words of her classmates’ answers float around her, and she listened only for something she hasn’t mentioned herself in the essay they handed in about Vampires at the beginning of class. No one mentioned anything new to her.

She allowed herself to focus instead on what she was going to say to Professor Lupin after class, if she could get him alone. She knew he had started teaching Harry Potter how to defend himself from Dementors, and she desperately wanted to be included in those lessons. Harry wasn’t the only one to have fainted on the train, and Ginny was eager to find any way possible to keep herself safe from those creeping cold cloaks and the demons who wore them.

Lupin’s voice finally rang through the group discussion around her and let them all know that class was dismissed. _Finally._

She dithered near her desk, packing up her belongings slowly while her fellow year mates hurried to have as much time as possible to gossip in the halls before their next class. Once the room was finally clear, she shouldered her bag and headed up to the desk where Lupin was still sitting, eyes closed. He hadn’t moved from the chair all lesson.

“Um, pardon me? Professor Lupin?”

His eyes cracked open, slowly, and he heaved a sigh that almost had Ginny apologizing before bolting for her next class. She steeled herself against that thought, protecting herself too important, and was rewarded with a small, restrained smile from her Professor.

“Yes, Miss Weasley? Can I help you? You only just handed in your essay today, you know. You’d have seen me marking it up during class if I’d already graded it.”

“No, sir, I’m certain I did at least an Exceeds Expectations on it. I had a request.”

The professor just raised his eyebrows, silently urging her to continue. She took a deep breath.

“I know you’re giving Harry lessons on how to defend himself from Dementors. I’d like to ask if you could teach me as well.”

“It’s a very intense and difficult Charm he and I are working on, Miss Weasley. To be honest, I told him that I doubt he’ll actually be able to accomplish it. His determination has been nothing short of remarkable, but willpower can only take you so far.”

“Yes, but some defense is better than no defense.”

“It can be damaging to practice spells before you’re ready for them, Miss Weasley. The Hogwarts curriculum is very precisely designed, with good reason. If Harry weren’t in such terrible danger from Dementors, I’d have certainly never agreed.”

“That’s just the thing, Professor, he’s not the only one. If you’ll recall, I fainted on the train as well.”

Lupin paused at that, and his face went lightly pale. “Ah, yes. That is true, Miss Weasley, I remember. But Harry has continued to show symptoms throughout the year. He’s been paler than normal and has complained of a lack of sleep. Well, more so than most other students have been affected by the ambient effects of the Dementors on the grounds. You don’t seem to be having any of those issues. Harry also made a point about trouble seeming to find him; I don’t think trouble will be looking for you, do you Miss Weasley?”

It wasn’t any of his arguments that make the decision for Ginny. It was the moment he called Harry by his first name, rather than Mr. Potter as so many other professors do. A tinge of concern and worry, mixed with an almost unwarranted fondness that curdled Ginny’s stomach to hear. She wasn’t sure if it was because he’s the Boy-Who-Lived, or something else, but Ginny knew in that moment the truth.

Harry was getting special treatment, and she wouldn’t be allowed to participate.

In a strange sort of way, it made sense. Harry _was_ special. She had benefited from that herself, when he’d come to save her from the Chamber. If he hadn’t been special, there’d have been no way he’d have been able to defeat the Basilisk to save her. That didn’t make it any less frustrating when she is trying to learn something too, trying to keep herself safe, but it was still the truth.

She said none of that, though. Instead, she just whispered “I understand, Professor.” She turned to leave, and let her thoughts wander on something Lupin had said, rather than letting them fester on everything he hadn’t.

Were there really that many people really being affected just from being near the Dementors? She hadn’t noticed anything strange, but then again, she hadn’t been paying too much attention to anyone that wasn’t Hermione or Luna. But nobody else had fainted besides her and Harry. Why wouldn’t she notice the “ambient whatever” that Lupin claimed Harry was suffering from?

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even realize she was headed straight to her Common Room, rather than to the Great Hall for lunch. She was about to turn around when she saw Hermione come bustling down the hallway. Ginny sped up just a bit to fall in to step beside her. She went to ask Hermione a question, when she noticed how tense she was.

“Something the matter, Hermione?”

“Nothing. I just-. Well. I don’t like Trolls. They’ve got them watching out Common Rooms now, and I just-. I _really_ don’t like Trolls.” She said this with a shudder and Ginny decided not to pry. Instead, she decided to distract her while bringing up a new topic, hopefully one that would answer her nagging doubts.

“Would you say that the castle feels… different this year? Than last year or the year before?”

“Hmm, possibly? It depends on what you mean.”

“I guess I’m not really sure. It’s just something that Professor Lupin said.”

“Oh, about his lessons with Harry? You were going to ask him about joining, weren’t you? Oh, I do so wish I had time to join in on those. It sounds like such a useful Charm.”

“Doesn’t make a lick of difference. He wouldn’t let you join anyways. Well, he didn’t let me, at any rate. He said Harry is more affected by the Dementors than anyone else, so he needs the extra training.”

“You passed out on the train too!”

“That’s what I said! He gave me some nonsense about ‘Harry being more affected by their ambient blah blah blah.’ I stopped listening.” Hermione rolled her eyes at her with a small smile.

“Honestly. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were as bad as Ronald.”

“Ah, so we’re still mad at him, are we? He deserves the Full Name Treatment?”

Her bushy haired friend huffed. “Yes, we are, and yes, he does. I don’t care if Percy summoned Scabbers and Ron admitted he was wrong, he should have trusted me.”

“Well, Crookshanks isn’t the most sociable cat. He’s actually rather vicious. Not that it gives him a right to blame Crookshanks with no evidence, but you have to admit he’s not totally without reasoning. Just without evidence.”

“Crookshanks is only vicious to his rat. Which I don’t understand, because Kneazles are supposed to be a good judge of character. Maybe his rat was an evil person in another life and was reincarnated as a rat to pay for his sins.”

“You believe in reincarnation?”

“Well, no, but that’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“The point is that Harry really isn’t all that more affected than anyone else by the ambient ‘blah blah blah,’ as you so eloquently put it, of the Dementors. That’s not to say that he isn’t affected, I think we all are, but he isn’t any more so than anyone else.”

“It’s just favoritism and excuses on the Professor’s part then.” Ginny just shook her head. “Regardless, you would say that Hogwarts does feel different, for certain?”

“Well, yes, I do suppose I would.”

“Even with all the Heir of Slytherin nonsense last year?” Ginny pressed her, even as she was hesitant to bring it up. The two of them had never fully discussed what had happened between them, when Ginny had almost _killed her_ the year before. It was a sore spot for Ginny, one of many. Like an open wound that wouldn’t close, any pressure caused it to flare and bring her nothing but pain. She’d get around to bandaging it, eventually, but she didn’t know how to even approach the topic, let alone begin to make her apologies to Hermione.

Hermione shifted her bag as they walked, readjusting its weight on her shoulder. “Well, last year was tense. Yes, tense really is the best word. There was a tension and an alertness in the air, along with not a small amount of fear. But when we were in class, or in the Common Room, it was mostly fine; it was only alone in the hallways that it became an issue. And I don’t blame you for any of that, not a bit. It was Tom Riddle, not you, and you did better than anyone could have asked you to in resisting him. So, get that look off your face.”

Ginny nodded at her, forcing her grimace to evaporate as regret and disgust roiled in her stomach. She’d been the cause of that fear, and so much pain, regardless of what Hermione said to the contrary. It may have been Tom Riddle’s soul, but it was her _body_ that went around petrifying people, almost killing them. She almost got caught wallowing once again in her own self-pity and almost missed it when Hermione continued.

“But it’s different this year, isn’t it? It’s nothing so noticeable as fear or being high strung. It’s just-. Everything is so _hard_ this year. It’s hard to gather the energy to do anything, it feels like. Meals seem quieter, and everything seems more subdued. The hallways seem darker, and the stone seems greyer, I suppose. I know it’s silly of me to think so, but it’s true. Or at least, it feels that way.” She blushed a little, as though she expected Ginny to make fun of her.

“Hmm. Thanks, Hermione. I appreciate you telling me.”

“You don’t think I’m a nutter, then?”

“No, I don’t. I get the feeling most everyone would agree with you. Professor Lupin certainly does. I think I’m the one who’s the nutter here.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I only just now noticed all the things you were saying about how bleak this year is. But I’ve been feeling it since before the Dementors showed up in force. I’ve been feeling it since last year. I don’t know if I ever stopped.”

Hermione just grimaced and gave her shoulder a squeeze as they finally came into the Great Hall for lunch.

* * *

It was the first week of March and Ginny and Luna were exploring the dungeons of the castle after curfew. Luna was convinced that there was a secret doorway that led out into a courtyard somewhere in the dungeons; she’d taken a note from Hermione and had been skimming a few books on the history of Hogwarts. Luna said multiple sources stated it as fact, and one of the sources was even a Slytherin professor.

Ginny didn’t quite feel comfortable in the dungeons. It may have been more accurate to say she felt a little _too_ comfortable. Although the Potions classroom was technically in the dungeons, it was on the outskirts, right at the edge. The two of them were venturing into the heart of the dungeons looking for this courtyard.

She let her mind wander as she and her best friend explored

Meditating, once she had learned how to do it right, helped her sort through her thoughts, accept them as they came to her. She wouldn’t say she was any kind of good at meditating yet, and she struggled every time she did it. But she plugged away at it, doing it three times a day without fail. Practice was supposed to make perfect.

She’d been growing discouraged when she hadn’t seemed to get any better and it hadn’t seemed to be getting easier, until one day something strange had happened. She’d come out of her focused breathing one evening, and as her mind wandered and burbled and flickered, she thought back on the year before. In her relaxed, smooth state, she didn’t flinch away from the memory as she might have normally, but instead allowed herself to relive it.

_Soft leather clutched tightly in her fingers, the only sound is the soft echo of her step, step, step. Barefoot, her feet make light padding sounds rather than the harsh click of her heels. Torches line the walls, shadows flickering across the floors like dancing figurines, she bobs and weaves throughout them. Her head feels full and heavy, the world seems to sway as she walks, the only thing around her that feels real is her diary._

_She turns a corner, and nearly steps on a small creature. A cat. It raises its hackles and screeches at her, and she bends over towards it. She lets out a vicious hiss, and it freezes for just a moment before turning to scamper away. A voice speaks something off in the distance, and she frowns as she struggles to hear the words. Footsteps, not her own, join her in the hall, the heavy tread of boots and leather shouting their arrival on the stone floor._

_Betrayed by her own prey. The cat had alerted someone to her presence. It would be the first to go. Her first test subject. She scampers back to her Common Room, a grin stretching her face. A successful first night. Things were well on track._

She came out of her memories shaken but able to manage her fear. It wasn’t terrifyingly bloody or horrifyingly gruesome, so it could have been worse. It was frightening to remember doing something and feel Tom controlling her body, but it was heartening to know that even while possessed, she had still been _there_ , just buried so deep she was only barely aware.

That first time opened the floodgates for her. She was slowly uncovering many of the blacked-out areas of her memory, most of them worse than her first. Sadly, this meant both Hermione and Luna were progressing in their Occlumency training faster than she was, but she didn’t mind. Feeling like her mind was her own was something she was willing to work long and hard towards. Protecting her mind was even more important.

She was learning, slowly, that there wasn’t any of Tom left in her. The traces he left behind, the marks he left on her, they weren’t remnants of him, not like there’d been pieces of him stored away inside her while she wrote in the diary every day. There was only the occasional memory to find, instincts that she hadn’t taught herself. Everything else was merely all the ways he’d altered her, changed her, caused her to become a new version of Ginny. That difference was where her dissonance came from, and she was slow in accepting it, even slower in sorting through it.

Down there, in the heart of the dungeons, it was harder to define who she was, to make the clearer distinction between the “Ginny-Who-Was” and the “Ginny-Who-Is.” Much as she tried to be like the “Ginny-Who-Was” up in the castle, in her everyday life, she couldn’t completely smother the part of her that sounded suspiciously like Tom. Most days, she could hide it well enough, but in these dungeons, that felt so familiar and like home, with cool air and the flicker of torchlight on grey stone, it was harder to pretend.

It was harder to even _want_ to pretend.

In one of those instances of random instinct, one that was certainly not her own, she put out her hand. She trailed her hand along the stone walls, feeling their grit and texture with the pads of her fingers. The dangerous truth was she felt content in the dungeons, as though returning to a long-lost friend. Or maybe it was more like returning home.

As her fingers slipped over an odd bump in the wall, she felt a flash of memory overcome her. To have a memory come upon her randomly, not while meditating but through a different trigger, happened more than she’d like. It had begun shortly after she’d started meditating and sorting through her blacked-out memories, but it was still relatively rare. It was almost expected to happen down in the dungeons, though, where there was more that was familiar that might spark a memory.

_Fingers brushing against the bump on the wall, the dungeons of Hogwarts hold no secrets from Ginny. She looks back at the girl she is bringing with her. She really has no interest in this, but her year mates will mock her endlessly unless she does something about it. She has to at least attempt to ‘snog’ this girl, or she’ll never live it down. The least Ginny can provide herself with is a modicum of privacy while she debases herself._

_The brunette girl standing behind Ginny is blushing as Ginny presses down on the secret latch that will open the hidden doorway into the forgotten courtyard. As the stones melt into themselves, and the simpering fool looks out into the small slice of Eden, Ginny grimaces in disgust. The girl simpers and Ginny’s insides revolt at the prospect of time wasted in lewd osculation._

_She’d rather not touch the girl, barely an excuse for a Witch, but Ginny’s standing in the House will fall if she doesn’t prove that she can. Witches, and Muggle girls too, have always fallen at her feet before; she just wished she’d never had to follow up on their obvious, absurd, and repulsive adoration._

Ginny shook her head to clear the memories left behind by Tom. While she was still progressing slowly, it was going faster now that they’d figured out what their Occlumency book was hinting at. As it turned out, the instructions in the book they’d found, which seemed to be written in code, that had said “clear your mind” didn’t actually mean “empty your mind,” but rather “have a clarity of mind about you.” Before a memory may have shaken her for up to 10 minutes at a time. Now her transition was nearly seamless.

The stones of the wall crumbled before her, just as they did in her stolen memory, and she turned to see the sight of the concealed courtyard.

Grass lined the floor of it, from end to end. Stone walls reached high into the air, until they faded into the night sky. The sky twinkled merrily above them, stars out and shining bright like giggling children. In the distance, Ginny could hear the sound of running water, and she could just make out what looked to be a small stream on the far side of the courtyard. It seemed to only pass through for a moment, and there was a small steppe of rocks next to it. Scattered throughout the rest of the space were short leafy shrubs, sprouting bright green leaves and subdued reddish berries sitting in clumps around the branches.

“Alder Buckthorn.” Luna whispered to her. “Can be used to make a green, yellow, and blue dye. Surprisingly, given the colors of the berries, not a red die.”

Ginny was about to respond when she heard a rustling from within two bushes. She crept closer and saw nestled within the two plants was a very small bench. Even more peculiar was the similarly tiny girl laid upon that bench, tossing and turning in what looked to be a very uncomfortable sleep.

“Oh look, it’s our friend Roni!” Luna exclaimed. This, naturally, woke the girl up. It was indeed the small Slytherin first year, Veronica.

“Since when did we rename her Roni?”

“Who said you could call me that?!”

Both girls spoke at the same time, and asked nearly the same question, but the younger girl’s question was much sharper, harsher in her rebuke than Ginny’s honest curiosity. The two older girls turned to stare at her, in all her fury, as she clenched her hands tighter and grit her teeth so hard Ginny could hear the grinding. She was sitting straight on the bench, with posture sharp enough to cut yourself on.

Slowly, the girl seemed to realize they were staring at her, and her anger seemed to morph to shame. Or at the very least, embarrassment - her face turned a nice dusty blush and she mumbled out a muffled “Sorry. Didn’t mean to shout” as she flinched away from them.

“Well, our night just got much more odd. And, if I say so myself, much more interesting as well!”

“I’d say interrupted.” Ginny mumbled under her breath, too quietly for either of the other girls to hear. Louder, she spoke again “So, Veronica. What brings you to this little corner of the castle? You weren’t crying again, were you?”

Ginny was observant enough to notice that the young girl didn’t seem to be short of breath, there were no tear tracks marring her cheeks, nor were her cheeks flushed. Ginny was about as sure as she could be that the little snake hadn’t been crying - otherwise she’d never have asked. Slytherins were snakes, sure, but it was cruel to kick anyone while they were down.

“Ah, no, I-. Well. I just come here sometimes. To be, you know, by myself. Alone. It’s… peaceful in here.”

“I would imagine it is. This looks like an image of the sky from somewhere in Spain! I’ve heard Spain is a very peaceful place. Could you imagine, a Siesta every day? How nice it must be to always be so well rested. What a wonderful country.” Luna sighed.

“You know some of the most random and obscure facts, Luna.”

“It’s common knowledge that Spain has Siesta’s. They’re well known for it.”

“I won’t even ask how you know that this is the Spanish night sky, then?”

“What’s a Siesta?” Veronica chimed in.

“It’s a wonderful, beautiful concept” Luna began, ignoring Ginny’s question. “In Spain, and many other countries, when the Sun rises too high and the day gets too hot, everyone just collectively agrees that it’s not worth the hassle, so they all pack up and nip away for a nap. In the middle of the day! I’ve heard that the Siesta is the reason Spain is known to have the largest population of Snoozing Heffalumps. They weren’t originally from Spain, of course, but when they were imported for the first time in 1482, there were reports of additional foreign Heffalumps flocking to Spain by the dozen! Think of it, being able to see all the immigrating Snoozing Heffalumps. How I’d have loved that.”

Luna continued to lecture on Heffalumps as the three girls explored the courtyard. It was nearly a meadow, but not quite. It was almost a forest, but not truly. It was similar to so many places, but hard to pin down. The three students had naturally begun to wander as Luna explained Siestas, Heffalumps, and wherever her tangent took her, with no one person deciding where or what they would explore. It just happened spontaneously, as though they had all three decided, at the same time, to wander about independently of each other, but had all chosen the exact same direction.

“Is she always like this?” Veronica whispered to Ginny under her breath. “It seems exhausting.”

Ginny nearly snapped back, vitriol dripping from her tongue like venom from her fangs to defend her friend, when she paused to look at the young first year’s face before shooting her mouth off. The girl’s words were accusatory, but her eyes were wide as she stared at Luna and her tone was nothing short of a quiet reverence.

Ginny remembered herself, not so long ago, being pulled into a field by a golden-haired girl who chatted about everything and nothing, and the way it _did_ feel exhausting. But there was a quality to Luna that made you want to be exhausted by her, want to follow her, and Ginny saw that desire in the little firstie. It was a craving Ginny knew well, the desire to be exhausted; she spent most of her summer doing backbreaking labor just so she could manage a few uninterrupted hours of sleep. Luna had been a godsend at the time.

“Yeah. Nearly always, I’d say. She’d talk my ear off if I let her, then carry it around with her so she’d always have someone to listen to her. Smartest girl I know, she is.”

The little firstie’s eyebrows climbed high on her face, like a hiker perched atop a conquered mountain. “Don’t you hang out with that M-... Muggleborn girl Granger? Harry Potter’s friend? I heard she’s top of her class. To hear the teachers tell it, she’s the next coming of Morgana.”

Ginny clenched her teeth at the near-mention of the blood-purity slur but gave the little firstie credit for censoring herself. At least she wasn’t totally ignorant and wasn’t looking to stir up trouble.

“She’s incredibly talented, and you’re right. Probably the next coming of Morgana if she’s even half as smart as I think she is. But Luna, well. Luna has this unique, difficult to follow way of looking of the world she lives in, and it’s a world I desperately wish I could live in with her. Watching her light up the room around her like vibrant spellfire as she gets deep into a conversation, it’s draining and invigorating all at once. She’ll twist the world around her until she’s seen it from a way no one has looked at it before, and I don’t know anyone else who can do it like she can. So, uh, yeah. Smartest person I know, if that makes any sense.”

“What’re you whispering about over here? Whispers make secrets make rumours, you know. And rumours attract Nargles. Ginny, do you _want_ a Nargle infestation?”  
  
“No, Luna.” Ginny smiled “You know I don’t. I was just telling Veronica here-”

“Roni!”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Veronica, _here_ ” Ginny continued “how incredibly smart, and talented, and wise, and powerful you are.”

“Oh! Well, that’s alright then. It’s all true, you know.” She nodded slowly to Veronica as she took on a sagely tone of voice. “I’m quite fantastic.”

Veronica stared at the two of them, eyes steadily roving from the blonde, the redhead, then the blonde again, before muttering “You’re mad, both of you. Must be the only explanation.”

“No, not mad. Although some people think I’m Loony, you know. Are you sure you didn’t mean Loony?”

Veronica’s eyes went wide. “Loony Lovegood? That’s _you?_ But you’re nothing like what the other girls said!” She clasped both her hands over her mouth quickly and let out a high squeak as she realized what she said.

“See? I told you.” Luna turned to Ginny and tapped her nose twice. “Whispers to secrets to rumours to _Nargles._ Now they’re everywhere!”

“And what would you like _me_ to do about it, hmm?”

“Has anyone ever tried killing a Nargle? They’re small - if you could only catch them, you might be able to pop their heads right off.”

“No, Luna, I don’t care how bothersome they are, wonton murder of relatively or potentially innocent magical creatures is both immoral _and_ illegal.”

“It’s not actually illegal. The Ministry doesn’t recognize them as a magical creature, which means there’s no laws against killing them.”

“It’s still immoral!”

“Yes, well.” She lifted her nose up tartly. “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Yes it does! It means-.”

“I know what it means, I meant it’s not relevant!”

“You’re both barmy. Really and truly!” Veronica muttered, not quite under her breath. “Harder to follow than a Wimbledon match, you are. Back and forth, it’ll drive me spare.”

“The point is, Ginevra, that we shouldn’t be afraid of the names they call us. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself, and I’ve no intention of being afraid of myself. There’s enough out there to _actually_ be afraid of.”

“But it isn’t actually your name.” Ginny pointed out, rather reasonably in her opinion, if anyone had bothered to ask her.

“Oh pish. It is to them; Roni knows me by that name, that means it’s basically my name. Isn’t that right Roni?”

“I, uh, didn’t actually know it was you?”

“Who’s side are you on?!”

“Uh.”

“She’s on no one’s side. Leave the firstie alone, Luna, you’ll send her into shock. Back on point, you think we shouldn’t be afraid of those names? Fine, I’m not scared of it. But I don’t want anyone calling me Jitters!”

“That’s just a different kind of fear. We need to own the name, make it our own so that they can’t use it to hurt us anymore. We shouldn’t let people define us or our image.”

“Uhm, my Mum always says that how people perceive you is how you’ll end up being, so you need to make them perceive you how you want to be.” Roni put forward, with a tremble in her voice. “Of course, she usually follows that up with lessons on posture and grammar, which I hate, but I think the point still stands?”

“See, I knew she was on my side!” Luna looked at her and pursed her lips. “What does your dad say?”

The girl tucked her head to the ground, staring at her feet resolutely, and let out a mumble that may or may not have been either “He’s usually busy” or “He’s brutally skinny.”

Luna made big fat doe eyes at Ginny and waved her arms as if to say “You SEE! I WAS RIGHT!” Ginny promptly ignored her for all of 10 seconds, before crumbling in to the peer pressure and letting out a reluctant sigh.

“How long have you been coming here, Roni? And how’d you find it, anyways?”

“Uh, since the end of September? I just kind of, you know, found it? It was after, or uh, near curfew, and I got lost? I sat down, and was kind of beating my head against the wall, and I just, you know, fell through it?”

Ginny didn’t believe for a second that Roni was telling the whole story but wasn’t about to push her on it.

“Also, please don’t call me Roni. My name is Veronica.”

“So, Roni, what’s fun to do in the rest of the dungeons other than this wonderful courtyard?”

“My name is-.”

“Because I could really go for a good adventure right now. A solid exploration of waters uncharted, lands unknown, skies untraveled - that’s exactly what I need right now. Right?”

“Right?”

“Right! So, lead on, fearless leader!”

The small girl looked between the two older girls, confused and scared. When Ginny gave her a small nod and a grin, however, the girl miraculously grinned back a bit sheepishly, and said “Well, I might know one place? If you haven’t, ah, been there before?”

“What would be the fun in telling you? We’ll find out when we get there! And if it isn’t new, you’ll take us to another place! Onwards!”

The girls trekked out of the magicked courtyard and back into the dungeon, following Roni’s whispered directions. The space between torches lengthened and increased until they trod along with only their wands to light their way. They walked, and climbed, and explored the secrets that the dungeons had to offer while the moon rose and sank without their knowledge. All night they spent together, until they were forced to head back to their Common Rooms to get at least a few hours of sleep before classes. The highlight of their hours long adventure was a single moment at the apex of their journey, the hidden spot that Roni had first mentioned.

They stood before a large stone wall, the dead end of a long winding corridor. Roni reached out and tapped a few bricks in a particular manner with her wand, reminding Ginny of the Leaky Cauldron’s entrance to Diagon Alley. Instead of crumbling away to reveal an alley, however, the dark grey bricks of the dungeon wall and ceiling faded away, to reveal an almost pitch black _something_. Luna reached out first, eyes wide, and gently probed the darkness.

“Oh!” she let out as she withdrew her hand.

She then promptly stuck her finger in Ginny’s ear.

“Watch it!” Ginny swatted back at Luna, rubbing at her ear with her free hand - Luna’s hand had been wet! And freezing!

Roni smiled at them, shyly, and tapped another brick, back a ways on part of the wall that handed vanished. A random pattern of lights lit up the dark something surrounding them, and suddenly they could _see._ Above them, in front of them, below them was a view into a fantastical, magical world made of small schools of fish and different types of seaweed swaying gently.

“The lake.” Luna breathed out “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Do the merpeople ever come here? Have you ever seen them? They’re supposed to sing the most beautiful songs, you know.”

“I’ve never seen any, no. But they might not know about this. I always imagined we looked like a large rock at the bottom of the lake to them.”

“Hmmm. We should ask them if we ever meet any.”

“Yeah. Yeah we definitely should.”


	11. Crashing

It was just after dinner, and Ginny wasn’t wandering the halls with Luna or Roni for a change. Instead, she stood before her bed, having a staring contest. Not with her dorm mates, for they weren’t around. Not with herself or a mirror, either. There were no pets around, Ron’s hysteria leading everyone to be more circumspect about crating their cats and other companions. No, she was having a staring contest with a book.

A sleek book bound in a soft black leather. It mocked her from its position on her bed, where she’d left it. It called to her, both enticing and terrifying all at once, and she both craved it and detested it.

“You can do it, Ginny. You do it every night. Nothing bad has happened so far, has it? You don’t even have to worry about it yet. You have to meditate first. Who knows how long that will take?”

Ginny sat down on the opposite side of her bed with crisscrossed legs, across from the book on her pillow, and she tapped the meditation parchment Hermione had given her at dinner. She was on a new guided meditation, now, having successfully completed the old one. The same skills were still used, but now she had more challenges to accomplish.

She had moved on to visualization techniques with this newest parchment, the image of a warm ray of sunshine filling her body from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. Unlike Hermione and Luna, however, she still did the more regular meditation, clearing the mind, and breathing based exercise as well, to aid in her memory.

All too soon her meditation came to an end, and with it she had run out of excuses. The book still laid in the same exact spot, mocking her. She sighed, forcefully unclenched her fingers, and reached out towards the book.

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” She murmured to herself. It hadn’t made any sense, those weeks ago when Luna had declared it in the courtyard. It still didn’t make any real sense now, but she refused to let herself be defined by her experiences with Tom. She would not be merely his trash, left behind and discarded. She would be her own treasure, and that meant overcoming her fears.

As she picked up the book, she flicked through the pages from end to front. As she got nearer to the front, the pages morphed from empty, blank, inviting, to full of looping cursive penmanship.

Her writing, still on the page. Not sucked in, not dissolved. No other handwriting either, nothing but the ink she’d formed into words and applied to the parchment. She flipped through again, from front to back until she landed on the next blank page and began her nightly entry.  

‘ _Dear Diary,_

_Are you there, Tom?’_

Ginny paused, as she always did, and waited. Her breath was held tightly, and her fingers trembled. When she had first started writing, she had waited a full 10 minutes before she was able to convince herself the diary wasn’t a trap. Now, she only waited a minute or two. She let out a sigh when she was convinced no one would be writing back to her in her diary.

She still did it every night, even though no one ever wrote back.

‘ _Guess not. Good.  Unexpectedly, today was NOT just another boring day, Diary. I know it’s been an interesting week, since the bullying picked up again. Like I said, though, the bullies have been pretty tame, comparatively. I suppose once they realized we wouldn’t rat them out to the Professors, they thought we were fair game again, but they still know they crossed a line. Or at least, they know that Felicity went too far with that Severing Charm. The other two have mostly kept her in check, and we’re back to petty Tripping Jinxes and name calling. Luna and I do our best to give it back to them, but we just aren’t strong enough yet, you know?_

_Anyways, I’m getting distracted. Today was even more exciting. Well, maybe exciting isn’t the right word. Luna and I were walking around on our free period, after Lunch, and we saw two Slytherins in our year taunting somebody. We couldn’t see who it was, but we’ve both been cornered enough to know how terrible it is. We couldn’t help ourselves - we stepped in to help!_

_Diary, I know I said a couple weeks ago that Luna and I were getting discouraged by how soundly the Ravenclaws always out-spelled us, but I don’t feel so bad about it anymore! Those two Slytherins were in our year, and we creamed them! Just a quick wham, bam, boom! Luna and I didn’t even break a sweat. Sure, we can’t do the Summoning Charm, or reliably cast the Disarming Charm, but I can cast a Tripping Jinx, and I’m real good at kicking a wand out of someone’s hand._

_But that’s not even the best part! We took out those two snakes and expected to see some scared Hufflepuff firstie getting teamed up against. But it wasn’t! It was Roni, our new friend! She’s been spending time with us almost every day, ever since we found her in that courtyard. The look on Luna’s face, dear Merlin I’ll cherish it forever! Some dark haired older Slytherin came waltzing around the corner then, calm and fancy as you please, and looked at everything for a second, all of us just standing or laying there. Then he was all like “Come along, Veronica.” And she went with him! She didn’t even say thank you! Although, she did shoot us a smile. Maybe Luna and I will take her out on another adventure. That boy didn’t seem especially nice._

_Anyways, that’s all that happened today. I’m going to start my meditation journal now. Thanks for listening, Diary.’_

Ginny flipped the page and put the date at the top once more. Her quill sat, resting on the parchment of the notebook, a spot of ink slowly growing as she battled with herself.

Her fingers tensed, and she hitched a breath. One long stroke. Two short strokes.

Quick and choppy, she forced her hand to move the ink along the page as she wrote the words which by now were so familiar to her.

‘ _I dreamed again. Not during the meditation, thankfully. I was able to get through the whole exercise without restarting. And this is the first one I’ve had in almost two weeks. I had them almost every night when we first started, so I think I might finally be making progress!_

_But I had a vision today during lunch. It was quick, thank Merlin, and nobody noticed. It was just a flash of sitting where Tom sat, staring at the Headmaster with seething hatred. I think it was Headmaster Dumbledore’s laugh that triggered it. It was almost identical to the one in the vision. I want to say it’s hard to imagine hating someone as much as I felt hate for the Headmaster in that moment, but I don’t know if that’s true. I think I might hate Tom that much, for what he did to me. I’m not sure.”_

The words slid out of her mind and down through her quill faster and easier the longer she wrote. The barrier she held up bent under her momentum, until she’d written down everything she wanted to say.

As always, although it was so hard to start, she felt lighter after writing it down. Like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and she could take in a deep breath for the first time in forever.

She whispered out a quick _“Nox,”_ popped open the curtains of her bed, and slid the diary on to her night stand. Only one of her dorm mates was still up, with her curtains open as well and a small candle lighting her reading. Ginny gave the girl, Clair, a smile and a wave, before she closed her curtains again. A quick _“Silencio”_ was the last thing she muttered before she drifted off into sleep.

* * *

It was a week or so later when Ginny was finally able to put a name to the dark-haired boy who had taken Veronica back to her Common Room. Roni had stuck to them like spellotape ever since the incident. They’d gone from spending time together every few days, to every single day. Luna had been ecstatic when, on the third day after the ‘saving,’ it was Roni who had sought them out first and asked what they three were doing that afternoon.

Slowly, but surely, Roni was incorporated in to their adventures and wanderings around the castle. It wasn’t always the three of them; their schedules didn’t always align. But Roni and Ginny got along well enough, and Ginny always saw Luna smiling after the two of them spent time together alone, so it seemed to be working out well. Roni hadn’t met Hermione yet, but Hermione was busier than anyone she’d ever met, even Percy, so she didn’t push it.

As they spent time together every day that week, Ginny slowly started to learn Roni’s little hidden signals. Ginny was sure that Luna had seen it first, but every time Luna called her Roni, the girl would instantly get up in a huff. Luna would ignore her, and Ginny would intervene, and by the end of it all Roni would sport a small smile. Barely noticeable, it was just an upturn of the tips of her lips and a sparkle in her eye.

The barmy girl _enjoyed_ arguing with them. She’d insult them and call them both crazy, but she went and explored every nook and cranny they showed her. Her look of disgust at her robes when they got dirty were McGonagall level scary, but she still continued to get traverse forgotten dusty corridors. She called them names and told them they were crazy every step of the way, but still, she came.

At one point Ginny was sure the little firstie was only staying with them out of some sort of sense of pity. Roni took every excuse to constantly lecture them on their poor grammar, and manners, and every individual infraction they incurred.

Ginny would forever treasure the gobsmacked look on her face when Luna finally decided to stick it to her.

They’d been eating at the Gryffindor table during a lunch they all shared, and Luna was doing her level best to stack peas into a tower. She was informing everyone within listening distance she was attempting to recreate a wizarding version of the Leaning Tower of ‘Pea’-sa.

“Luna, it’s impolite to play with your food.” Roni scrunched up her face as she informed Luna she was being rude for what must be the millionth time.

“I’m not playing, I’m working. Obviously. This is serious business. I could get awards for this. Although, they do say that if you do what you love you’ll never work a day in your life.”

“Do you love wizarding architecture?” Ginny asked, just to be contrary.

“Merlin, no! Most of it is dreadfully boring. If all wizarding architecture was like the Burrow, then maybe, but most of it is like the Ministry.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “The Burrow is more spell than building at this point.”

“Fine. I’ll amend my statement. Food is for eating, not for playing or working or anything else that isn’t eating.”

“Well poo on you.”

“Ginny, you should really sit up straight, and keep your elbow off the table. You might accidentally stick the sleeves of your robes in a dish, or somebody’s plate.”

Ginny whipped her head to Luna quick as she could to preemptively shut down her smirk. “Not a word outta’ you, missy. Not. A. Word.”

“I haven’t said anything.” Luna smirked, as Ginny knew she would. Damn her. “What kind of friend would you take me for if I mentioned to our Roni, here, that you once put your elbow straight in a butter dish because you were making goo-goo eyes at Harry Potter? I’d be a terrible friend.”

“See! This is why manners are important! If you had good manners, then that wouldn’t have happened. It would have been ingrained into you to not do that, and you wouldn’t have made a fool of yourself when Harry Potter was at your house!”

Ginny rollled her eyes. “We do have good manners at my house. Me Mum is always on us about washing up and ‘no feet on the table!’ an’ what-not.” Ginny smiled as she saw the girl scrunch up her nose again at Ginny’s poor grammar and forced slang. Impersonate Seamus Finnegan, annoy the poor firstie. Worked every time.

“Those aren’t good manners, that’s just basic decency. You two wouldn’t know good manners if they knocked politely at your door 15 minutes before a party began and asked to be let in with a gift for the house.”

Luna tilted her head and closed her eyes for a few moments, and it was like her whole demeanor changed. She lifted her head up from where she’d continued to work on her wizarding Leaning Tower of ‘Pea’-sa, and straightened up. Her posture was just as good as Roni’s, if not quite as natural.

Eyes still closed, Luna began rearranging her plate and fork and knives, her goblet of pumpkin juice, the bread she’d been sopping up soup with, everything to be in a particular order that Ginny couldn’t fathom or understand. She picked up her knife and fork, and in the most dainty action Ginny had ever seen, watched Luna eat her lunch. Luna then turned her head at the neck and inclined it to Roni.

Upon closer inspection, Ginny realized Luna’s place setting was identical to Roni’s.

For just a few moments, Roni’s face was a picture of pure shock. Her jaw slightly open, her eyes big and wide, Ginny would cherish the adorable look on her face forever. Then, Roni furrowed her brow in what looked to be intense thought. “If you know the proper way to do it, why wouldn’t you? ‘The key note of simple folks is bad manners.’ That’s what my Mum always says. She also says if I’m ever anything, I’d best not be simple.”

“My Mum made me read lots of books on manners when I was young. I read one by a woman named Emily Post. She said that ‘Manners are a sensitive awareness of the feelings of others. If you have that awareness, you have good manners, no matter what fork you use.’ That’s why I think you have good manners, Roni. Not because you know how to properly say hello to someone, or which fork to use, but because you care about me. You care about how people will look at me or talk about me. You care about what they’ll think of me. But I don’t care, not so much, not anymore. Because I’ve got Ginny, and because I’ve got you.”

Luna beamed at her, in the way that only Luna could, and the girl ducked her head and went back to her food.

The three of them left lunch that day, and Ginny stepped in the way of a Tripping Jinx sent their way that was likely to hit Roni. She stumbled a bit and laughed it off.

“Whoops! Sorry, tripped over my own shoe.” She sent a glare back around her, and saw Felicity and Olivia shooting her a vicious grin.

Whatever they did, Luna and Ginny weren’t about to let their new friend be the subject of their own personal bullies. It seemed to them like she had enough to deal with in Slytherin.

So, when Roni came up to them the two weeks after they’d saved her with a nervous look on her face, Ginny and Luna were instantly alert. More older students, maybe? Worse, had their own bullies gotten to her while they weren’t around? Ginny would swat down as many baby snakes (although were they really babies if they were her own age?) or defend against as many ‘Claws as she needed to for this tiny girl with perfect posture and impeccable manners who was quickly becoming her close friend.

Although that really wasn’t what she or Luna needed right at this particular day. They were only about two weeks out from their ritual on March 20st, which they’d been planning for months now. They still had so much work to do. Researching their runes, choosing the appropriate runes, picking a location on the grounds they wouldn’t be disturbed, memorizing their lines. They didn’t have time to fight! They’d fight if they had to, though, for Roni; she was their friend now.

As it turned out, Roni didn’t need them to fight anyone for her. She managed to shock them, instead, with what she was really looking for them for.

“I regret to inform you that we shall no longer be able to associate with each other. I appreciate your time over the past few weeks, and your aid against those unsavory members of my house, who were overeager in showing me what it means to be a Slytherin.” Her voice quavered as she spoke, but her lips were firm. Her eyes shone, and though they weren’t quite wet, they were close.

Ginny wanted to tear into her. How dare she throw their friendship back in their faces? They’d showed her some of their best hidden places and favorite spots among the castle! Not all of them, and certainly not the best ones, but more than a few! She and Luna had even been thinking of inviting her to join in the next ritual they had planned.

Well, not the _next_ ritual, the one coming up in March, but the next one after that which they would do, the one that they’d invite Hermione to as well. Probably sometime over the summer.

Ginny could admit that the tears the small girl refused to shed as she stoically stood before them likely meant she didn’t _want_ to stop being their friend, but rather was being pressured into it. But still! She shouldn’t have given in so easily!

Right as Ginny was about to tear into her, she was interrupted by the sound of Luna’s laughter. Not even a small giggle or chuckle, Luna let out loud peals of humor. It shocked both Ginny and Roni into silence. They stood in confusion as Luna wiped a fake tear from her eye, and said “Oh, Roni, that’s a good joke. We all know you love Ginny and I too much to ever really stop hanging out or exploring with us. If it’s the nargles that are bothering you, don’t worry too much about them. Ginny and I are working on it, we promise.”

“Her name is Veronica Fawley. I’ll assume she’s given you leave to use her first name, but I’d thank you not to call her by a diminutive. There’s little chance you could be that familiar after so short a time.”

Ginny saw the same dark-haired boy from weeks ago turn the corner and lean casually against the wall. He was the one who’d taken her back to their Common Room after Ginny and Luna had saved her from her fellow Slytherins. He crossed his arms over his chest, and his dark hair was swept neatly back. His casual confidence, his easy stature, and the dark undercurrent of potential violence he seemed to exude combined nicely with his pressed robes with green and silver trim to give off a startling image. Ginny had a brief moment to think ‘ _Tom’_ before she looked at the boy closer, and latched on to the first difference she saw.

His eyes were blue.

Tom’s eyes were dark, so deep a brown as to almost be black. This boy wasn’t Tom. Dark hair, confidence, and Slytherin robes were all superficial similarities. Over and over she repeated to herself ‘ _This boy_ _is not Tom_.’

With that acknowledgement, she was able to look past the way he held himself and examine him more critically. His robes hid it well, but he was too tall and too thin, like a weed that had only just realized it was Spring and had shot up too quickly. He was taller than Tom would have been, and his robes fit him better; not only were they brand new, something Tom had never had in his seven years at Hogwarts, they were probably tailored to hide how slight he was. His blue eyes were soft They weren’t piercing or striking like so many other blue-eyed people she’d seen, but gentle and faded.

“Who, Roni here?” Luna asked interrupting Ginny’s musings. “But she likes her name! Veronica is so long and cumbersome, but Roni fits her perfect. Isn’t that right, Roni?”

Ginny wanted to just throw her hands up in defeat. Because of course Luna would get into an argument about something as silly as this girl’s nickname, which truthfully the girl never even agreed to! Ginny was pretty sure she didn’t actually mind, if the small smiles as she defended that her name was ‘Veronica’ was any indication, but she wasn’t sure. She felt a pang of guilt at the thought that maybe Veronica was actually upset with them, maybe really _didn’t_ want them around or to call her by a nickname.

While Luna and the dark-haired boy had a staring contest, Ginny took the opportunity to look down more closely at Roni; Luna could take care of herself, and she didn’t need Ginny to back her up in something as easy as a contest of will. Ginny had to trust that.

The firstie was almost shaking, her fingers clenched up tight into fists, her eyes screwed shut. Ginny wanted to give her some kind of encouragement, but held back. Roni could make the decision on her own; or maybe Veronica would make it. Either way, Ginny would wait.

The four of them stood there for a few moments, waiting for the young first year to come to a conclusion. Ginny was content to wait as long as she needed to, but apparently the Slytherin boy wasn’t.

“Well, Veronica? Is this true?” His eyes never left Luna’s as he spoke.

“Yes.” Ginny lightly noticed Luna’s nearly inaudible sigh of relief. “I told them they could call me that.”

Well then. Not only was she choosing them, she was lying for them too. That was an unexpected, but pleasant surprise. Luna was all bright smiles and Ginny let a small one slip out as well. They were both shocked, though, when the girl continued.

“You can… you can call me Roni as well, if you’d like, Theodore.” The small brunette girl trembled as she stared resolutely at the floor, and Ginny could see the shine was back in her eyes as she stood there. She didn’t turn around to look at the older Slytherin. The boy, Theodore, narrowed his eyes at the young girl’s back. He flicked a quick glance towards Ginny and Luna, then looked back at Roni.

He sighed and brought a hand to rub at his forehead. He looked far older than he should have in that moment, and where Ginny had been sure he’d been a third year before, now she couldn’t tell at all. He looked like a 5th year stressed out with OWL exams looming around the corner as he rubbed away a headache.

“Then you may call me Theo, I suppose. You will be back in the Common Room at least a half hour before curfew this evening, and every evening after, do you understand… Roni?”

The girl spun on her toes, light and quick as a ballerina, and stared at the older boy.

“Theo?” she wavered.

He just gave her a short nod, then kicked himself away from the wall before stalking down the hallway, around the corner.

“Goodbye, Theo! It was wonderful to meet you!” Luna called after him, waving furiously in the air. “Be careful of potential cave ins in the secret tunnels! Spring is coming, and we might have to be cautious of Migrating Rock Beetles!”

The boy stopped and peered over his shoulder at her. Only his head swiveled as his body stayed still, and he let out a tightly controlled “You may address me as Theodore, or not at all. Be thankful I allow you even that courtesy.”

He swept away again, his robes billowing behind him as he moved down the hall.

“Not quite as impressive as Professor Snape, but still rather good. Do you think he’d teach me how to make my robes billow like that?” Luna pondered.

Roni just laughed and lunged at Ginny and Luna to gather them in to a hug. The pat on the back she received from Ginny was apparently enough permission to let loose the whole story.

“Malfoy said I couldn’t hang out with you anymore, and Pansy said I’d have to pick between you two and all of Slytherin, and I’d have picked you, I swear, but in the beginning of the year Professor Snape said that House loyalty always came first, and I didn’t want the bullies to be any worse to me, and I’d have missed you, I would’ve, I promise, but you’ve been so nice to me and my dorm mates were always so mean and I see how those Ravenclaws are already mean to you and I didn’t want you to have to deal with my housemates too, because that wouldn’t be fair, but I didn’t want to stop being your friend, I didn’t, and you can call me Roni, it’s okay, I don’t even mind so long as I still get to be your frie-eh--eh-eh-ehhhhnd.”

Roni’s story spilled out like an avalanche, and Ginny wasn’t sure that she even took a breath the whole way through. Her words turned into sobs as her emotions overcame her. Bawling into their hug, Roni took large gasping breaths as she broke down in tears.

“It’s okay Roni, we’re still your friends!” Luna patted her on the head. “No more tears, now. It was all just a big misunderstanding.”

The brunette girl sniffled, pushed her long, tangled locks out of her face, and looked up at them with her soft green eyes, once more puffy with tears. “Do you promise? We’re still friends, even though I said we weren’t?”

Ginny gave her a smile and tightened their hug. “Of course we are, Roni. You just said we’re allowed to call you Roni! If you finally giving in to Luna’s nickname isn’t a sign of friendship, I don’t know what is.” She paused for a moment, before she continued tentatively. “Are you sure that’s okay? It’s only, we never really asked you if it was alright. You’re our friend, we should respect it if you say not to call you that.”

“Of course it’s alright, she’s our friend! Friends call each other nicknames.”

“I wasn’t asking you, Luna, I was asking Roni.”

“It’s… its really okay.” The girl paused, wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe, and took a deep breath. “When I was little, I had a friend.”

_And isn’t that a sad start to a story_ , Ginny thought to herself.

“We met at the playground, and had a good time, and it was wonderful. I brought her home with me, and Mum didn’t like how dirty we were. I’d been wearing a new dress and she said I’d ruined it. The girl didn’t know good manners either, and my Mum didn’t like her. The girl called me Roni. She was my best friend; my only friend. I wasn’t allowed to play with her anymore, and my Mum refused to let anyone call me Roni ever again.”

She looked up at them, with tear stained cheeks, and smiled a watery smile. “I like it when you call me Roni. I’m not allowed to let people call me that, my Mum said, and all the Pureblood etiquette books said so too, but even when I told you not to you did anyways. It was like we were really friends.”

“Of course we are!” Ginny exclaimed. “I can only imagine how terrible that must have been. At least Veronica is a pretty name. I’d have died of shame if my Mum only let people call me Ginevra.” Ginny shivered at the thought and basked in the warm chuckling of her two friends. She let their laughter balm her heart, before she asked a question she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to. “What about Malfoy and Pansy, though? Won’t they still go after you?”

“No, not if Theodo-. Theo. Not if Theo tells them not to. He’s my cousin, I guess, and if he says I can hang out with you, then I can hang out with you. Family trumps House, generally.”

“Wait, are you one of _those_ Fawley’s?” Luna asked as her eyebrows shot up and her eyes went wide.

“You guess?” Ginny asked at the same time.

“My Dad is. But, uhm.” She looked around nervously, before she whispered “My Mum isn’t. At _all._ ”

“What are you two talking about now? How do you not know if he’s your cousin or not?” Ginny interrupted them.

“Fawley is one of those silly Pureblood families that managed to make their way into that dumb _Pureblood Directory_ at the turn of the century. I had thought the main Fawley line that was considered to still be ‘Sacred Twenty Whatever” only had a daughter, and that she had married… oh. She married Thaddeus Nott. But she was still an only child; how are you related to Theo?”

“She wasn’t an only child.” Roni murmured. “She had a twin brother. His name was Leonard Fawley. His sister was Annabel Nott, nee Fawley. Leonard is my father; he was disowned and blasted off the tapestries and registers.”

“Why was he disowned?”

“For marrying my Mum. She’s a Muggle.”

The three of them sat in the silence that followed, and Ginny wasn’t sure what to say. The only sound was the light whistle of the wind rattling against the window of the hallway. Eventually, the only thing that she could think to say was the question that was burning to come out as she thought back on all the little details she’d learned about Roni since they’d met.

“Your Mum is really a Muggle?!”

Roni’s shoulders hunched, and Ginny wasn’t sure why she suddenly looked so defensive.

“Yeah. I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be too nice and brave to care about blood status?” The words left her lips like a whip crack, sharp and condemning.

“What? No, I don’t care about that!” Ginny hurried to say. “It’s just, well… You have better manners than me! And my Mum tried everything short of Charming the manners into me. Did your Dad teach you?”

“Ah, no. Not exactly. My Mum thinks manners are important. Like, the most important thing in the whole word. So, when she realized I was a witch, and that the wizarding world might have different manners, she made Dad buy all the books he could on manners and she made me read them back to front, over and over and over. I could probably recite _Madame Xenia’s Rules and Regulations for the Young Pureblood Lady_ in my sleep.”

“Eugh.” Was Luna’s initial response. “That was easily the worst of all the books I’ve ever read. If I ever wanted to burn a book, which I never will because Hermione would kill me for it, it’d be that one.” She paused, tapping a finger against her lips, then let out a cheshire smile. “Well, next time Ginny sticks her foot in her mouth, you can be sure to correct her. Don’t worry, she’ll pretend to get mad, but she’ll really appreciate it.”

“Don’t you start, Luna, you know your manners are just as bad as mine.”

“Yes, but I _choose_ to ignore the rules, as I proved at lunch the other day; you just can’t remember them.”

As the girls continued to bicker, they wrapped their arms around Roni and dragged her along on their next exploratory adventure. There were still so many places to find!

* * *

Having been given ‘permission’ by the older Slytherin, Roni stuck even closer to them, like a permanent Sticking Charm to her previous spellotape. Generally, this didn’t make much of a difference in Ginny and Luna’s everyday routine. When it was convenient, Roni would spend time with them in the library or exploring the castle, or at the Gryffindor table during lunch. She went from a common fixture in their lives to a constant one. Up until her inclusion with them, she hadn’t spent much time outside of the dungeons. Now that she was officially ‘allowed’ to be their friend, they were clueing her in to the best and most interesting places they’d found, the ones they’d been saving until they knew her better.

“You’ve already met Zelma.” Luna explained to her. “She prefers to go by Mutiny. She was the captain of the ship on the tapestry you hid behind.”

“She’s got some of the best stories of any portrait we’ve met so far.” Ginny chimed in.

“But she doesn’t give out _quests_.” Luna said the word reverently, like it was the best thing she’d ever uttered. Luna and Ginny then rebuffed every attempt Roni made to find out what in the world they meant by ‘quests.’

The girls were climbing up a staircase tucked out of the way on the third floor. It had been hard to find, as the doorway looked innocuous enough to be nothing more than a broom cupboard. Ginny was convinced that it had a Notice-Me-Not Charm permanently cast on it, it was so easy to overlook. They trudged along, step by step, while Roni’s patience visibly wore away.

“How long is this dumb staircase?”

“Longer than I’d like.” Ginny muttered.

“Just long enough!” Luna said brightly, talking over Ginny.

The Slytherin girl let out a mournful, exasperated sigh as they continued on. Eventually, they reached a heavy wooden door with large iron straps across it. Luna reached up and rapped her knuckles against the door.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

A few moments passed, and the landing they were standing at was filled with a guttural, rasping, angry noise. Roni covered her ears.

“What in Merlin’s name is that?!” Roni shrieked.

“May we come in?” Luna inquired, once the sound wound down.

It started back up again, piercing all their ears.

“NO!” was the raspy shout that punctuated the ending of the strange noise. Ginny just smiled and leaned over to whisper to Roni.

“That’s Gobbledegook.” Roni’s eyes went wide at the revelation.

“Is there a goblin in there?!” she squeaked. “They eat witches like me for dinner! Crabbe and Goyle said so!”

“And you believed them?” Ginny asked, incredulous at the mere idea.

“It’s just me: Luna! And Ginny’s here too! We have a new friend to introduce you to! Please, won’t you let us in?”

The Gobbledegook rang out again, hissing and spitting and angry as ever. “LEAVE ME ALONE YOU WRETCHED THINGS.”

Luna sighed, in a put-upon way. “You leave me no choice, I suppose. I tried to be polite.” She smoothed her robes, cleared her throat, then very firmly looked at the door. The sound that came out of her mouth most closely resembled the sounds “Gurglatt,” but was entirely too raspy and mangled to be called a real word.

The door squealed open to reveal a plain, bare room, lit only by a single window. No decorations adorned the plain stone walls, and there was only a single piece of furniture in the space: a podium, or perhaps a stand, settled right next to the window. Even with just that, it was still cramped. Sat atop the stand was a large, grotesque piece of what Ginny could only very charitably call art. A bronze bust, dusty and ignored, stared menacingly at them. A small wrinkled head, with a sharp pointed nose, and beady little eyes. Ears too long and pointed, and fangs instead of teeth which were bared back into a growl.

“Hello, Karthuk! It’s wonderful to see you today.” Luna greeted the animated bust.

“Have you found the treasures in the room I told you about?” the goblin’s beady eyes seemed to shine, and Ginny wasn’t at all positive that it was a trick of the light from the window.

“Well, no,” Ginny began, before the statue interrupted.

“Then leave.” The bust growled. “I don’t want you here. Get out and leave me in peace!” He began growling again in what Ginny was pretty sure was Gobbledegook, but might have just been gibberish. She wasn’t entirely sure of the difference.

“I told you to leave and not come back until you’d finished our deal! Yet for some reason, you keep visiting me.”

“But Karthuk, we moved you closer to the window, so you could see down into the courtyard like you asked! I thought we were friends now?” Luna put on a huge pout as she said this.

“No! That was part of our deal! You moved me closer so I could see all the wand-holding children bully each other and hurt each other with their precious sticks, and I would consider telling you about a secret place in the castle.”

The bust’s face was expressive as he spoke, eyebrows moving and jaw working as he growled. Ginny privately thought this was actually the most expressive goblin she’d ever met. Most of the ones at Gringotts, at least the ones she’d seen, were all quite stoic, especially in comparison.

“If you’re not here to tell me you’ve upheld your end of the bargain, then why are you here?” A raised eyebrow and a show of fangs accompanied his question. “Do you need a reminder on the details? Any treasures you find in the room, you need to bring to Gringotts and bring me with it! Don’t you back out on me now, whelp! Untrustworthy witches, the lot of you, I knew it! You’ve probably found it and have come to gloat about backstabbing me!” He descended again into growls and guttural murmurs. Ginny just rolled her eyes. This bust wasn’t worth the trouble, in her opinion, although the fact that they’d been given a quest _was_ pretty cool.

She leaned over to Roni and whispered to her as Luna continued to try and cajole more information out of the bust. “It was hard, but we eventually found an old copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ that talked about him. Karthuk snuck into Hogwarts a long time ago, nobody knows exactly what for. All they knew was that he was looking for something, and when the Headmaster at the time found him snooping around, he killed him. Claimed he ‘feared for the safety of the students,’ or something like that.”

Roni gave the bronze statue a look as Ginny said that and murmured “He is rather gruesome. I’d be afraid of him, if I saw him sneaking about the castle. Don’t know that I’d go straight to killing him, though. Seems a tad drastic.”

“Yeah, we agreed. Anyways, a little while goes by, and a new Headmaster is brought in. Gold-something-or-other. Goldfinch, maybe? Doesn’t matter. This new Headmaster was big on Goblin rights. Thought it was terrible what the last headmaster did, so asked Gringotts to send them a portrait of the guy to hang up in remembrance and friendship. Only, the goblins don’t do portraits like we do, what with the lack of wands.”

Ginny gestured towards the bust. “Nobody’s better at magical metalsmithing though. Don’t ask me how they did it without a wand, but they did. Sent this bust over, and everything was fine. Then the _next_ headmaster came in, some woman who had fought in the last goblin rebellion. Hated goblins, obviously, so she shoved him up here in this tower. He’s been here, alone, ever since. You think he’d be nicer to company given how lonely he must be, but all he ever does is shout at us.”

“And Luna speaks Gobbledegook?” The quiet girl finally asked. “That’s how we got in?”

“I’m learning!” Luna, who had been arguing with Karthuk about how she wouldn’t be going back on their deal while Ginny explained the situation to Roni, answered for herself. “Karthuk is teaching me.”

“I am teaching you nothing, you foolish girl! You haven’t even managed to get into the secret room I told you of, how could you possibly be smart enough to understand my great and noble language?!”

“It’s not our fault we can’t get in! We found those two books you told us about. They both said the exact same thing: the secret entrance is supposed to be beyond the seventh suit of armor. But that hallway doesn’t HAVE a seventh suit of armor! It was hard enough work just to find the hallway. It’s only on the fourth floor on Thursdays, which the book didn’t say anything about. Who knows where it is the rest of the time? So, we came back to you for another hint.” Luna lit up her face with a smile and eyes as big as the moon as she begged the bust for help.

The goblin only sneered at her. “I knew you were too stupid to find it. This is why you can’t trust witches.”

“I don’t think he wants to help us, Luna, maybe we should just leave him be?” Veronica suggested.

“Fine. I was hoping he’d want to get whatever treasure he thinks is there back to Gringotts more than he wanted to spite us, but I guess not. Don’t you worry, Karthuk, we’ll find it eventually. Even if it takes our whole time at Hogwarts! Then we’ll send the treasure to the bank, and we’ll take you back too, and then you’ll teach us Gobbledegook properly and be our friend.” She gave one last blinding smile and a wave as they all trudged out the door. They were followed by more shouts and screams and yowls from the bust.

“What a pleasant fellow.” Roni said as they trudged back down the staircase.

“Eh, he’s not the rudest thing we’ve met. You should meet the painting of the wizard who got Transfigured into a Jarvey. His wife keeps Transfiguring him back and forth, and I can’t tell if he’s more rude as a wizard, or as a Jarvey.”

Ginny was about to reply that the wizard was _definitely_ more rude when he was a wizard, rather than a Jarvey, when she heard footsteps behind them in the hallway. It was almost instinct, at this point, to be wary of any sudden noises while wandering around or walking between classes. She turned quickly, and her stomach knotted up at the sound that echoed around her. She’d know that laugh anywhere: Kim. The ringleader of their three favorite people in Hogwarts

“Take Roni and run.” Ginny murmured to Luna. Most times when their bullies went after them, Roni knew it was happening, but there were enough people in the crowds that Ginny or Luna could take the hex or jinx by walking in to it, to ensure that Roni never got hit. But all alone in this hallway? Ginny didn’t want to risk it.

Luna had paused as well and gone pale at the sound of the Ravenclaw’s cackling. Roni, bless her heart, hadn’t noticed anything unusual. Or at least, she hadn’t until Ginny had said something. The young first year Slytherin craned her neck backwards and saw the girls turning the corner. When they saw the three girls standing there, they made a show of stopping to laugh loudly while pointing at the three of them. Roni seemed to square up against Ginny.

“Run with us! You can’t beat them alone,” she hissed.

“You’re right.” Ginny gave wan smile. “But they’re also faster than us.  I’ll keep their attention while you two get out of here.”

Ginny heard a mutter that sounded distinctly like “Stubborn Gryffindors” as her two friends fled down the hallway. She wasn’t entirely sure if it was Roni or Luna who’d said it.

She rolled her shoulders and plastered a wide grin on her face. This was going to be terrible. The girls had largely been content with petty nonsense since they’d come back after the Christmas hols, at least once they’d started up again. With the increased security, this was the first time they’d found either herself or Luna alone without any Professors around since their last big fight.

Her shoulder twinged from where her scar still sat, an ugly red that glared at her every morning and every night.

As they came closer, Ginny realized it wasn't the three girls she was expecting. Kim was there of course, as was Felicity, but Olivia was missing. In her place was Marietta Edgecombe.

Ginny swore to herself, but kept her smile painted to her face, straining against the scowl that threatened to break out in its place.

Marietta was a vicious girl, more physically minded in her assault than Olivia or Kim. Ginny knew for a fact that she’d walk away with boils or pimples whenever Marietta was involved; Marietta didn’t care much for insults or words. In Ginny’s mind, the only redeeming thing about Marietta was that she didn’t make her as uncomfortable as Felicity did. Marietta was never quite that eager, never had that same hunger in her eyes that Felicity sometimes got when Ginny or Luna took a particularly bad fall from a Tripping Jinx. Instead, the bullying seemed almost like something just to pass the time, or maybe was just a way to practice the jinxes and hexes she’d read about on a live target.

She saw Kim narrow her eyes down the hallway at the retreating forms of Luna and Roni, then whisper something to Felicity. The blonde girl started forwards, to follow Ginny’s friends. Ginny tensed. She had to keep them focused on her.

“How you doing, ladies?” Her mouth opened of its own accord, words spilling out with what felt like no input from her. “Haven’t seen you in a while. I’ve missed you, you know.” She smirked then, a nasty and condescending visage overtaking her face. She recalled one of the many times Tom had taken her into his memories. He’d shown her himself sneering at one of the firsties during the year he was made Prefect, how he had shown her the importance of fear and respect, how they were intertwined. She remembered vividly how he’d also acted that way one of his first weeks in Slytherin to an older student, had shown her the danger of going off halfcocked against opponents stronger than yourself.

Her fingers clenched in her hand, making a fist to ease some of the tension as she compared herself to him. She did all she could to keep her concern and fear and her entire maelstrom of emotions contained within her fist, covered by the edge of her robes’ sleeves. A difficult task considering her robes were getting a bit short on her. They may not have been hand-me-downs from her brothers, but they were still second hand and didn’t fit perfectly.

“Oh look, it thinks it can talk to us.” Kim giggled. Felicity huffed out a snort of laughter, while Marietta tittered along. Then her face lit up. “Oh, look at Jitters, girls! She’s so excited to see us she’s already shaking.”

“Or maybe she’s scared.” sneered Felicity. “You know what she’s like.”

“Mm, you’re right. This is _Jitters_ that we’re talking about, after all.”

Ginny’s eyes flicked back and forth, wary as she watched them encroach closer and closer. She almost didn’t bother when Marietta started twirling her wand, as Ginny couldn’t hear her saying any words or incantations to go with the spell. In Ginny’s mind, there was no way a third year could possibly cast silently; it was just to intimidate her, to throw her off.

Too late, she noticed Marietta’s lips moving slightly. She attempted to dodge, to jump, to _move_ out of the way however she could, but her body was too slow, and she had noticed too late. She felt her feet trip over themselves as she’d been trying to move backwards out of the way. The spell took the path of least resistance, and her momentum kept itself steady, flinging her backwards as her legs flew up into the air.

She turned as she fell and ducked her head. Her shoulder impacted the stone with a _smack_ , but she didn’t lay long. She rolled and attempted to pull her wand out of the pockets of her robe.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ of her to not have pulled it out right away. She wasn’t fast enough and didn’t manage to get it out before she heard the shout of another spell.

“ _Trahereos!_ ”

Ginny’s body was grasped, as though by invisible hands, which began to pull at her. Slowly at first, but with more intensity. Her head was pulled up from the top of her neck, her arms were pulled out to the side by her palms, and her feet pulled down by her toes. For a brief moment it felt almost pleasant, like a humongous stretch first thing in the morning.

Then the stretching continued.

It pulled and pulled, just slightly beyond what was comfortable. Not painful, not yet, but she knew it was coming soon. She kept expecting a sharp sudden _jerk_ of pain as she was stretched beyond her limit, but it never came. She strained against her instincts to tense, tried to relax her body against the magical grip she was subjected to.

She wanted to close her eyes, to help her focus on relaxing, but knew it would only make the pain more pronounced. Instead she kept them open, to better focus on the three girls before her. Anything to keep the slowly growing uncomfortable sensation at bay, in the furthest recesses of her mind rather than at the forefront.

“Marietta!” Kim squealed. “Was that a _silent_ jinx? I didn’t know you could do that!”

“I can’t. Not really. I’m working on it, see, but I’m not quite there yet. I can do a few with just a whisper now though. Don’t have to shout the spells out any longer.” She blushed. “But forget about that. Felicity!”

“Hm?” the girl in question asked. Her wand was held aloft, held vaguely in Ginny’s direction, firm and steady in her grip.

“What is that spell? Where’d you learn it?!”

Her grin was almost feral as she responded. “It’s called the Stretching Curse.”

Both other girls gasped in response. “That sounds like a _real_ curse, not that baby nonsense they taught us in first year so we could learn what a counter-curse is. The Leg-Locker Curse barely qualifies as a curse. It’s more a jinx, or a hex at most.”

“I know! And we aren’t supposed to start on real curses until our OWL year. I mean, we aren’t even supposed to start learning how to properly do counter-curses until next year. How’d you learn it?” Marietta looked begrudgingly impressed.

“My Mum bought me defense books like I asked for, for Christmas. Doubt she even looked at what was in them. This was in one of them. Talked about how you can use it to just lightly stretch somebody, but you’ve got complete control of the curse if you want it.”

Ginny felt her body slacken and her muscles relax as the strain lessened and the pulling stopped tugging at her limbs so insistently. She watched, in morbid fascination, as Felicity explained the curse. She was so casual; this whole scene before her felt surreal, as though they were discussing nothing more surprising than the weather, while she was stretched out before them on the ground in pain.

“See, so long as you keep your arm steady, you keep a connection with the curse. You can slacken it” she turned the wand one way, and Ginny felt the pressure loosen even more, so much it almost wasn’t even noticeable “or you can tighten it.” She grinned again as she twisted the wand sharply in the other direction.

Ginny had refused, until that point, to let out any sounds. Not a whimper, not a peep. She refused to give them the satisfaction. But as Felicity rotated her wand, Ginny let out a sharp pained shout as her body was pulled viciously outwards. She couldn’t help but close her eyes as the pain in her body threatened to overtake her. It coursed through her body and invaded her mind as slowly the only thought she had was a low keening wail of _it hurts it hurts it hurts._

As quickly as it started, it stopped. Ginny laid on the ground, too afraid to pull her arms or legs inwards, in fear she might be hit with the curse again and the force of being pulled out so far might damage them. Before she had a chance to register it, she was bombarded by spell after spell after spell.

She intimately knew the feel of a Stinging Hex, so knew exactly what the three spells were that hit her face. She distantly wondered who she’d ask this time to brew the Shrinking Solution for her; she’d avoid the infirmary at all costs.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Ginny’s blood ran cold at the sound. She knew that voice. Professor Snape stood over them, looming above her with a sneer upon his face. His nose too large, and his hair limp with grease, given that he was upside down and her eyes were swelled so fully she couldn’t barely see, he looked like a vulture staring down at its carrion. She bit her swollen lip in an attempt to keep from laughing at the image, the pain making her delirious.

“Oh Professor! It’s just awful.” Kim’s voice fluttered out, all sugar and sweetness. It sickened Ginny to listen to it; it disgusted her even more how many Professors fell for it.

“Is it?” Snape asked archly.

“We found her like this just lying in the middle of the floor! We were trying to figure out if it would be safe to brew her a Shrinking Solution ourselves, or if we should take her to the infirmary.”

“Yes, what a difficult conundrum. Take her directly to where there are Shrinking Solutions brewed by myself, or Madame Pomfrey, and have the situation resolved in less than an hour. Or, conversely, spend at least four hours attempting to brew your own concoction without any supervision. Do remember, I have seen your lab work and graded your essays for my class. All three of you.” He paused. “In case you were wondering, you should definitely have taken her to the infirmary.”

Ginny couldn’t help but let out a giggle, although it sounded more like a moan from the pain she still felt thrumming through her limbs and swelling on her face.

“And you, Miss Weasley, should know better than to tamper with potions without supervision.” There was another pause. “You three are still here?” The soft voice sneered, an evil malicious thing which put the scorn in her tormentors’ voices from earlier to shame, and Ginny heard the scampering of feet fade into the distance.

“I suppose you added protea to your Swelling Solution when attempting to brew it without my permission? Or perhaps you merely added too many dried nettles, thinking you might make it more potent? Balance is _important_ , in the sacred art of brewing. This is why dunderheaded students shouldn’t be allowed to brew outside my supervision. If I had my way, you wouldn’t brew at all. If you add too many nettles, you may as well just add fennel to the solution, which as I doubt you know, would be disastrous. Pick yourself up off the floor, and get back to your Common Room, Miss Weasley. Madame Pomfrey may take pity on you, but I hope she does not, so that you might learn from your mistakes.”

She heard his footsteps as he walked away, leaving her there on her own, fading slightly. He stopped short, however, to give her one last thought.

“At least now your face matches your hair, Miss Weasley.”


	12. Cruising

Ginny swept through the hallways, her friends scattered around her. For the first time this school year, they’d all managed to be free at the same time. Roni was absolutely terrified of Hermione at first, which Hermione had apparently found baffling.  She kept trying to draw the younger girl into conversations. Roni, for her part, seemed awestruck to just be near her, and couldn’t get out a coherent sentence. 

She was better by far than Ginny had been around Harry, back when she’d harbored a crush on him, but not by much. Luna watched the whole charade as they walked with a smile in her eyes, until eventually Ginny took pity on the two of them. 

“She’s nervous around you.” Ginny whispered as Luna dragged Roni up ahead a little ways to look for something; probably more Migrating Rock Beetles, if Ginny had her guess. Luna still hadn’t let up on those. 

“Nervous? Why would she be nervous?” 

“Do you know how intimidating you are? To the younger years especially.” Ginny tread lightly around this whole conversation. She was walking a fine line, fraught with bludgers coming at her from every direction.

“Me? Intimidating? No one has ever said anything up in the Common Room. I helped some of the younger years with their homework last year!” She gave a small grimace. “I’d have helped you too, if only you’d ever asked, or seemed like you needed it.” 

“I had my own personal tutor last year, thanks.” Ginny mumbled. Why did it always come back to Tom? “But no, our little lion cubs are a bit nervous around you, buy you’re OURS, so they get over it. Hermione, you’re Harry Potter’s best friend, not to mention the top of your class. Some of the younger years are definitely intimidated by you.” Hermione still seemed incredulous, and Ginny sighed. Of course, she wouldn’t believe it right away. 

“No one is going to approach Harry for anything, he’s the bloody Boy Who Lived. But you’re just the right amount of intimidating to be scary, but not so scary as to be insurmountable because you’re in their house. So instead, the firstie’s dare each other to go up and ask you for help.” 

A look of horror overcame Hermione’s face as Ginny explained the light hazing ritual that she’d seen all the first years this year, and a few from last year, put each other through. 

“They do the same with Ron. They ask you for help and ask him for games of chess. Although, they all give up on him pretty quick when he thrashes them. He’s never known how to go easy on someone in chess.” Ginny rolled her eyes. 

“And I’ve been turning most of them away all year. I’ve been so busy, and I haven’t really had time, they must be so terrified, so devastated. What must they think of me?” Hermione’s eyes shone as she came to a realization. 

“Eh, they’ll get over it.” Ginny shrugged. 

“But I don’t want them to think I’m terrifying! I want them to come to me for help! I don’t… I don’t want anyone to feel like I did my first few months here.” She murmured. “But I’m taking so many classes this year, and I have so little free time. Trying to keep Harry away from Sirius Black has been no easy task either. There’s just so much to _do._ I want to do it all!” she wailed. “What about the other Houses? Are they terrified of me too?” 

Well shoot. Now Ginny felt bad. Better to face the truth early on, though, she supposed. 

“Well, yeah? Hermione, you’re pretty amazing.” Ginny supposed a bit of flattery never went amiss. “You’re smart, and brave, and always busy doing something awesome.” The girl ducked behind her bushy curls, Ginny guessed to hide her blush. “They see you helping the Boy Who Lived with his homework and think ‘wow, how smart must she be that she has something to teach the guy who defeated Tom as a baby?’ So of course they’re terrified of you. I mean, for Merlin’s sake, Hermione, you’re working on an appeal for Buckbeak. Do you know how many of the Slytherins have parents in the ministry? You’re basically throwing yourselves against their parents, which you just, you don’t _do._ ”

“The older kids tell us, explicitly, to leave you, Ron Weasley, and the Boy Who Lived alone. They tell us that if we see you, we should keep our heads down and not bother you at all. Malfoy is the only one in his grade who’s allowed to have a go at you three, and that’s because he’s got a feud with the Weasley’s, and probably with the Potter’s now too, if he’s to be believed.” Roni and Luna had caught up to Ginny and Hermione and Roni decided to add her own two cents.

“He hates that name. The whole ‘Boy Who Lived’ nonsense? Harry doesn’t like it.” Hermione muttered, Ginny guessed for lack of anything else to say. 

“Why? That’s who he is, isn’t he?”

“No. He’s Harry Potter, who grew up with his Muggle aunt and uncle, who loves treacle tart, who hates potions but loves Defense, and loves Quidditich even more. He thinks his Mum, or maybe his Dad, is the one who really defeated You-Know-Who. He’s kind, and brave, and loyal, and wonderful, and none of that has to do with being the Boy Who Lived, which he hates.” 

They all stood in silence for a moment as Hermione just nodded in satisfaction at her rant.

“And she’s Hermione Granger,” murmured Luna. “She’s brave, and intelligent, and she always has ink on her fingers. She’s stubborn sometimes, and always likes to have an answer. She loves raspberry jam, and hates when her foods touch each other on her plate. And I believe, if I’m not mistaken, that she’d like to be your friend.”

Ginny almost let out a laugh at how similar the two girls looked, Roni and Hermione both standing there sheepishly and very firmly _not_ staring at each other. She rolled her eyes at them. 

“Ugh, get over it. We don’t have time for this. I’ve class in an hour, and Hermione wants to talk to the house elves. Who knows how long that’ll take?”

“Why do you want to talk to the house elves?” Even when she mumbled, Roni’s diction was perfect, Ginny thought. 

“Well, we met this one named Dobby, and he was a bit crazy, but that’s to be expected, I suppose. He was a slave! He was being forced to harm himself! I’d think I’d go a bit spare if I was magically forced to harm myself. We freed him, or Harry did anyway, but I realized recently that I don’t know much about house elves, or how many there are, or if they’re all enslaved. I want to help them, of course, but Luna suggested I talk to them first to see what kind of help they want, so as to not accidentally offend them in the process.”

“What am I, dragon dung?” Ginny asked. “I was there too!”

“I recall you being there. I _also_ recall you complaining about them, and generally not being very helpful.” 

“Look, I’m the one who found them, and I’m the only one who knows how to get in to the kitchens because I weaseled it out of Fred and George, so I deserve at least a smidge of credit. Otherwise, Roni and I can go in the kitchens, and you two can stay out here.” Ginny stuck out her tongue. 

Luna smiled, Hermione rolled her eyes, and Roni laughed. Everything was more comfortable after that, and Roni wasn’t quite so afraid of Hermione anymore, which the she definitely seemed to appreciate.

As they came upon the large painting that hid the kitchens, Ginny reached in and gave the pear a little tickle. It giggled happily at her, reminding her of a squirming child as it wriggled, and the painting swung open. 

The four girls were assaulted by the smells wafting out from the kitchen. Roasted meats, fresh fruits, slowly simmering soups, it was almost too much. It was just the right side of being a mess; enough to make it more mouthwatering, rather than distracting.

The four girls stood for a few moments, in awe of the scene before them. A veritable legion of house-elves hustled and bustled around the kitchen, levitating and stirring and chopping and wrapping and taste testing. It was like a dance, each little body moving in perfect harmony within, around, and through the sea of other elves. Ginny had seen it before, the last time she’d come down to the kitchens, but it never failed to take her breath away.

One of the house elves noticed them standing there and let out a loud squeal. He was of average height with most of the other elves, or so it seemed. He had an almost green pallor to his greyish skin, with large bat like ears and bulbous brown eyes. “Students is being in the kitchen! Is the students hungry? Come, come, come and sit, Roobey will be fetching you some snacks. Is you wanting anything special?”

Hermione looked decidedly uncomfortable with the way the house elf was acting, but Ginny didn’t let it get to her. Because she _had_ come here for something specific, and anyways, the little guy had offered, hadn’t he?

“Yes, please, Roobey. Whatever you have is fine, but could Luna and I get some bread,and maybe something to drink packed up to go? We’re having a bit of a mini party tonight, and we wanted some snacks.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her and peered deeply. “You isn’t wanting sweets? How late is you be staying up? Students needs to be asleep to go to classes, and they has a curfew for a reason.”

“Not that late! We just wouldn’t want to bother you later at night, in case food wasn’t ready. We figured, if we came before dinner, you’d have so much food you were getting ready for dinner we could have a bit of that. We didn’t want to make any extra work for you, you see.” She smiled blindingly at him and hoped desperately her distraction worked. 

“Pah,” he muttered “is no such thing as too much work. But students is being very kind to think of being nice to house elves. Roobey is appreciating it.” He looked to the left and to the right, as though checking to make sure no one else was paying them any mind. “Roobey will be bringing you four some desserts left over from lunch, cakes and the likes, so you can be enjoying them before your next classes.”

“Roobey?” Hermione started before the elf ambled away. “Is there someone who has a bit of free time to talk to me about house elves? It’s only, I couldn’t find any books on elvish society or culture in our library. I’m really quite interested, and would love to learn more.” 

A strange look came over the elf’s face at Hermione’s questions, and he peered at her. “Why is you asking questions?”

“Well, my friend met a house elf last year. His name was Dobby. Dobby had a bad master, a very bad master who didn’t treat him very well at all. My friend helped Dobby get free, and I realized I didn’t know what became of him. I want to help him, but I don’t-. Well.” Hermione took a deep breath. “I don’t know how. So I want to learn about your culture, to make sure that when I _do_ finally find him, and help him, I don’t accidentally offend him, or anyone.” Her voice wavered at the end, and Ginny could see just how hard she bit her lip to stop herself from saying any more. 

“Roobey is knowing a house elf named Dobby. Roobey is fetching him now. You is staying here and not moving until Roobey gets back.”

With that the little elf wandered into the throng of house elves cooking and working throughout the kitchen. 

“Well, I think that went quite well. Roobey seems lovely.” Luna ventured. 

“Yes he does, doesn’t he? Oh, do you really think it went well? I do hope I didn’t offend him at all.” Hermione was frantically looking around as they waited for Roobey to return, staring at the elves as they worked. 

“They’re smiling.” She muttered. “Oh, I do so hope that means they’re being paid. How could I have been in this castle so long, and not even known they were here! I know food can’t be Transfigured or Conjured, and we’ve never heard even a mention of any cooks.” She worried at her hair as she babbled on and on, and they all just left her too it. She’d have her answers soon enough. 

Eventually the small elf came back, with another one trailing behind him. Grey skin, almost papery thing, with large blue eyes and a nose thinner than Roobey, the small elf marched up to them. Stranger than his looks, though, was what he was wearing. 

It wasn’t until she’d noticed a house elf wearing something different that Ginny had noticed how rest wore identical outfits. A toga style garment wrapped around them, with the Hogwarts crest on it. This elf, however, had some extra accoutrements. He had the tea towel wrap, but he was also wearing a bright, paisley hat. Upon closer inspection, Ginny realized it was a tea cozy _._ He had on two socks, one plain black one, and a large green one that didn’t seem to really fit them. 

“Students is asking for Dobby? How can Dobby be helping yous?” He said this as he and Roobey both started handing out plates with small cakes around the table that Roobey had sat them at earlier. 

“Hello, Dobby. My name is Hermione Granger. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Hermione started. She held out her hand to shake. 

“Miss Granger, ma’am, is offering to shake Dobby’s hand? Surely she is a great, great witch.” Dobby said this breathlessly as he reached out to tentatively shake her hand. 

“Well, that’s kind of you to say. Would you happen to be the Dobby that helped,” Hermione sounded strained as she said that word “my friend Harry? Harry Potter?”

Roobey muttered “Oh noes, not again,” at about the same time that Dobby yelped “The Great Harry Potter, Sir! Yous is a friend to the Great Harry Potter, Sir, Miss? Oh, Dobby did not _know_ , Miss! Dobby is so sorry, Miss! Can Dobby be getting you anything? Drinks, more snacks?” 

The pure excitement and exuberance coming off the little guy was enough to throw Ginny off balance. He started bustling forward as though he might clean the table in front of Hermione, just to be sure she wasn’t near anything dirty at all.

“Ah, no, Dobby, I’m quite alright.” Hermione declined. “I was just wondering how things were for you? You were freed, is that right? From Mr. Malfoy? Do you have a place to work now, or are you working at Hogwarts? Are you well taken care of, do you need anything?”

“Miss is asking after Dobby’s health? The Great Harry Potter, Sir’s Miss Granger is concerned for Dobby? What a wonderful witch she must be!” The elf looked likely to swoon. “Yes, Dobby is working for Hogwarts now, Miss. Dobby is quite happy. Dobby is… Dobby is…” He stuttered and vibrated as he attempted to speak. “Dobby is being PAID, miss!”

Ginny saw Hermione’s smile break out for a brief moment, but it faltered when she saw Roobey sneer behind him. “Dobby,” she started again “could you tell me about house elves? Your life, your beliefs, your culture?” 

Dobby, for the first time since Ginny had seen him, looked less than excited. “Dobby couldn’t say, Miss. Dobby is sorry! Harry Potter, Sir’s Miss Granger is certainly a wonderful witch, but she is not a house elf. Dobby can’t be telling a not-house-elf things that only a house elf should be knowing. Bad Dobby! Dobby can’t be helping, even with simple things, bad! Bad Dobby!” 

The small elf started tugging on one of his ears, and with his other hand began to mercilessly pound his fist into his skull. Loud, hollow thumping noises accompanied each smack, and each one caused Dobby to wince fiercely. 

“Stop.” Hermione whispered with wide eyes. Ginny noticed that Roobey stood behind him with a pinched look on his face, eyes lidded while wringing his hands. 

“Stop, Dobby!” Hermione urged, getting louder. The house elf did not stop. He only began repeating his mantra more fervently while he battered himself. Ginny stared in shock, a deep sadness welling up inside her as watched this poor, kind elf debase and harm himself. It was too much for her, and she had to look away. Hermione, wonderful witch that she was, did not. 

“I. Said. STOP!” She shouted at Dobby, and lo and behold, it worked. Ginny couldn’t hear the pounding anymore. In fact, she couldn’t hear anything. The sounds of the kitchen had halted as well, and when Ginny peeked around she saw a sea of large eyes staring at them. Not a single house elf moved; they had all stopped. They stared at the four girls, wide eyed, as Hermione stood there heaving, red in the face. 

Hermione got down on her knees, to be eye level with Dobby, and said “You didn’t do anything wrong, Dobby. It was just a question. It’s okay.” Hermione spoke as though she was comforting a wild animal, Ginny thought. The way she spoke to the chickens when one of them got hurt and she needed to corral them into her arms before her Mum healed them up again. 

Dobby was shaking where he stood, clearly at odds with himself. His hands twitched as though he wanted to keep up his self-imposed punishment, but his body was still in response to Hermione’s command. 

Slowly, as they realized Hermione wasn’t paying them any mind, the other house elves all began to pick up their work again. 

“Dobby could,” Roobey started “see if Fimsy is free? If any house elf was being allowed to tell a non-elf about house elf things, Fimsy would know if it was being okay.”

Dobby’s hands calmed as he shook his head, and then began to wipe tears from his eyes. “Dobby will go find Fimsy and ask her.” He nodded to himself once, twice, then a third time more firmly. “Dobby will be right back, Miss Granger, ma’am.”

They all watched the elf leave, weaving through the crowd, perhaps a bit less fluid and graceful than Roobey had. They all looked at the remaining elf as he sighed. 

“Dobby is being sick, Miss,” he told Hermione. “Thinking being paids is a good thing, taking more than he should be for his work. Wearing clothes, and socks, and not only his uniforms. House elves isn't supposed to be saying bad things about their Masters, but even Fimsy be saying that Dobby’s old family was bad wizards. That why she be letting Headmaster Dumbledore be paying Dobby. Old family be messing him up, and now he be sick, right here.” Roobey pointed to his own head as he said so, and Ginny felt her heart breaking, just a bit more for the poor house elf. 

“Oh, that's just so awful.” Luna murmured.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to listen to any of my housemates talk about their house elves anymore. That’s just so… wrong.” Roni murmured.

They all sat for a while in silence, the clatter and clamor of the kitchen a soft din in the background as they pondered. Shortly, Dobby came back. He was helping an older and stooped, wizened looking house elf. Supported by Dobby under one arm, the house elf held a small wooden twig in the other hand, using it as a cane. Their large bat like ears drooped dangerously low, threatening to cover their eyes as they flopped back and forth. Frail would be the word Ginny would use to describe this creature upon first glance. 

“I be Fimsy.” The elf spoke, voice warbling slightly. “Yous be asking for me? Why’s is students not in classes, learnings spells?” 

“Hello, Fimsy. My name is Hermione Granger. None of us have class right now, so we’re not missing anything important. It’s wonderful to meet you.” 

“Oh dearie, wonderful to meet Fimsy? What a kind witch this students is. It be very nice to meet you, yes it is.” She leaned more heavily on her cane. “How can Fimsy be helping yous all today?”

“We were hoping you could tell us more about yourself, and all the other house elves?” Luna spoke up. “My friends and I are all very curious; you do such a wonderful job caring for us and the castle, we thought it best to get to know you better.” 

“Oh no, that not be right. A good elf be an elf that wizards and witches is not knowing they is there. Is you knowing about my elves? Is you seeing them in the towers and the hallways?” She narrowed her eyes. “Come, tell Fimsy which elves is being seen and I be fixing it.”

“Oh no,” Roni exclaimed “nothing like that! You know, we didn’t even realize house elves were in charge of taking care of so much until recently? You’re all very inconspicuous, quite out of mind. We just happened to come upon the idea on our own and wanted to express our gratitude.” Hermione didn’t look happy; in fact she looked to be getting progressively more upset the longer the conversation went on. 

Ginny figured Hermione might explode at any minute, with the way things were going, and tried to jump in to defuse some of the tension. 

“Our friend here,” she gestured to Hermione “was born in the Muggle world and has never met a house elf before. She was very happy to learn about you and was saddened that it took her so long after joining the magical word to even hear about you all!”

Hermione’s lips were pursed, when she finally spoke up for herself. “Roobey, here, mentioned that Dobby gets paid for his work. Does anyone else get paid for their work at Hogwarts?” 

“They best not be, or Fimsy be not letting them works at all!” With a sudden surge of steel in her voice, and a glint to her eyes, the aging house elf worked herself up in to a rant. “All of Fimsy’s elves is _good_ elves. They is knowing to do their work, and not be seen, and only take what they’s is allowed to take. They won’t be faffing about with heads in the clouds, thinking about _pay._ ” She spat the last word with a vitriol that impressed even Ginny. 

Hermione, however, only looked distraught. “But, but _why?_ Where I come from, being forced to do work without being paid is wrong. It’s immoral. It’s evil. It’s wrong.”

The little creature cocked an eyebrow at them all, but it seemed to be mostly directed at Hermione. “Whos is saying house elves is being forced to work? House elves is loving to work. It is our… our… _Ar’Akh’Tel’Quessir_.” 

Both Dobby and Roobey gasped as she spoke, and Dobby once again began pulling on his ears furiously. “Elves is not supposed to be speakings like elves in front of wizards and witches. But Fimsy is in charge.” Roobey informed Ginny with a whisper.

“I don’t understand.” Hermione said softly. “But I’d like to. Please, can you teach me?”

Fimsy tilted her head and stared at the four of them, squinting her eyes. For a moment, Ginny was concerned she might lose her balance and fall over, but the little elf was made of sterner stuff than that. “Fimsy be telling you, only so you don’t be trying silly things like trying to free house elves. Being free is being bad, and bad things happen to bad elves,” she muttered darkly. She snapped her fingers, and a small, elf sized chair appeared, and she slowly descended into it, creaking all the while. Dobby helped her down, supporting her by the arm still.

“Elves is not having magic in us like witches and wizards. But elves is needing magic to live. What is elves to do?” She asked from her chair. She snapped again, and a pipe appeared in her hand, filled with some kind of herb. Fimsy noticed Roni’s eyes go wide and chuckled before giving Roni a little wink. “Even house elves be needing medicine sometimes.”

“How do elves use magic if they don’t have any?” Hermione asked, gleaming eyes eager to learn something new. 

“Elves isn’t having magic.” Fimsy snapped. “Elves is _being_ magic. But they is needing lots, just to be. So where do elves get it? From working. Cleaning, cooking, laundry, fetching, serving.” 

“How does cleaning and _serving_ give elves the magic that they need?” Hermione questioned, voice dripping with disdain. 

“Wizards and witches is having lots of magic. Everything they be doing, they be putting bits of magic in. Standing, sitting, laying, sleeping, eating, living; always magic. So a witches house is being magic, too. A house elf is going in, and being bound to a family. They serve the house, which is good for house elves; in serving the house and the family, they is soaking up the magics. Witches isn’t using it anymore, isn’t even noticing it’s missing. Everybody be winning.” 

“But that isn’t fair! You shouldn’t have to be subjected to servitude, to slavery, just to get what you need to survive! Wizards and witches shouldn’t be able to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. You can’t _own_ another being, even if you do have a symbiotic relationship.”

“House elves can’t just be going into a witches house will-nilly and be taking magic without giving anythings back. Fimsy doesn’t know about symbi-whatsists, but Fimsy knows that. Because then they be bad house elves.”

“Has it always been this way?” Luna asked. “There was a law in a book we read, a very, very, very old law, that allowed wizards and witches to bind house elves for ‘safety purposes.’ That must mean there was a time when house elves weren’t bound to families, right?”

“ _No._ ” Like a thunderclap, the strength of her voice was shocking and unexpected, and it shook the girls to their core. She smacked her pipe in her palm as she said it, and the embers of the pipe flared causing a puff of smoke. “House elves is being bound to families. Always and always. Roobey, Dobby, yous is going back to work now.”

“Yes, Fimsy!” They chorused as they rushed off. They’d been sitting, fidgeting slightly but listening with rapt attention. Even still, they seemed eager to get back to work.

She narrowed her eyes at them. “I hear a story once. Long, long ago, about house elves who is working in houses but not bound to their families. These house elves is going crazy, and hurting their witches and wizards. They be hurting themselves, too. Dobby is already crazy, so we is not binding him to Hogwarts. But if yous be thinking of bad talk like that, I be telling Headmaster Dumbledore on you. Witches is curious, Fimsy knows. But they best also be good witches, not bad witches. Right?” She raised an eyebrow at them. 

“Brownies.” Hermione murmured, pale faced and thin lipped. 

“How is you knowing that word?” Fimsy cocked her head again as she puffed on her pipe. “Wizards be forgetting old Muggle name for house elves.”

“I’m Muggle-born. I’ve read about it in our fantasy and history books. All the Muggles thinks it’s make-believe, but it’s real. You’re real.” 

“Of course Fimsy is real. So now you know. House elves is needing work, and working is being good for house elves. Bindings to family is making it safe for house elves to work, and is so they is always knowing they has work.”

“But wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t have to be bound? If you could work for whoever you wanted?” 

“If house elves isn’t being bound, then they is being turned crazy by bad masters which is insulting them by not knowing all the rules. Being bound means house elves and masters both know all the rules; the rules is whatever the master says they is. Being bound means less crazy house elves. Being bound to Hogwarts is safe for many house elves. Not quite as good as a family, but a safe Hogwarts is better than a dangerous family.”

“Dobby wouldn’t have gone crazy if he had stayed with his old family, would he have?” Roni spoke up, softly. 

“Dobby be special case. Dobby have bad master. Dark wizards, they is. Even with bad masters, Dobby not go crazy. He go sick in the head, but not crazy, because binding wouldn’t let him. And now Dobby has no family, and wants to be free, so he won’t be going crazy. He is a bad elf for wanting to be free, but binding him to a new family he isn’t trusting is maybe breaking him and making him go crazy before he is being bound. Dobby doesn’t know it, but Dobby is very lucky Headmaster Dumbledore is such a great wizard, breaking the laws and letting Dobby work without bindings. Could be very dangerous for the Headmaster”

After one final puff on her pipe, the elf slowly picked herself up from her chair, and snapped it away. “Students is needing to go back to class now. You is taking your desserts, and your snacks for later, and you is going to learn about wands and spells and what not. Fimsy is staying here, and doing her work of keeping all her house elves in line. They is a rowdy bunch.” She smiled as she looked back over at all the house elves behind her, cooking and working and chatting with each other. 

“May I come back and speak with you again sometime?” Hermione pleaded. “I’d be ever so grateful. I’m fascinated, and I’d love to learn more about you, your history, and your culture.” 

Fimsy pursed her lips. “Maybe. Fimsy has told you too much already, most probably. Witches isn’t house elves, and so yous isn’t supposed to be knowing too much house elf.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude, I’m just ever so curious.” 

“I am, as well. Is there anything we could do to, I don’t know, become honorary house elves?” Luna asked. Ginny rolled her eyes at her, because of _course_ that would be her answer, and Luna stuck out her tongue when she saw.

Fimsy let out a raspy chuckle and pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. “Silly witches, telling jokes.” When she realized none of the girls were laughing with her, she narrowed her eyes again. “Or maybe crazy witches? Hmmmm. Fimsy isn’t sure. Let Fimsy look at you.” 

She snapped, and appeared abruptly on the table, still stooped over. She reached out, lightning quick, and grasped Hermione by the chin, staring into her eyes, examining her. Then she did the same to Luna. “Hmmm. Maybe. Maybe. If you is spending the summer at home, doing all the working and the cleaning and the cooking, Fimsy will check you again next year. All day, everyday for at least one whole month, two be better. Now off! Off with you! There is learning to be done, and meals to cook!” She smiled at them as she shooed them out, then leaned over her cane again to hobble her way back into the crowd of house elves. 

Ginny was sure to snag their extra food, which Roobey had brought before wrapped up in a picnic basket. None of them spoke as they left the kitchens. Hermione looked pensive, Luna curious, and Roni confused. Ginny wasn’t sure how she felt. 

She knew, intellectually, that she should feel something for the elves. She recognized that their situation was terrible. Either as a necessity of their existence, or due to conditioning, they needed to be bound into slavery. Ginny knew full well in her mind that it was wrong. 

But her heart just couldn’t seem to care. She couldn’t muster up the energy to feel more than distantly upset by the whole scenario. She’d felt more fiercely for dobby as he punished himself than he did for the elves’ general situation. Those problems all seemed so large and grandiose, and she had much more pressing, immediate concerns. She felt a deep, throbbing guilt over her lack of passion for their plight. 

“It's wrong. They might not know it,” Hermione whispered eventually “but it’s wrong that they’re bound like that. They deserve to be free, and happy, and to work without the fear of being ordered to do things they don’t want. There should be laws, and rules protecting them. If they really need the binding, then there needs to be more oversight on people who own house elves. They need help. They don’t know it, but they do.”

She looked up at them all, and Ginny was in awe of the fervor burning bright in her eyes. “I’m going to help them. I’m going to help them all.”

“Yes.” Luna murmured, light and dreamy. “Yes, I do believe you will. I look forward to seeing it and helping you if you need it.” She reached over and hugged her. That seemed to be the breaking point for Hermione, who broke down into Luna’s shoulder. Ginny broke out in a smile as Hermione sobbed into Luna and reached over to hug her as well. Her grin stretched wider as she felt the tentative hands of Roni circle around them as she included herself in their impromptu group hug. 

* * *

 

Ginny sighed to herself, cursing her brother, Harry, and Hermione for having access to an Invisibility Cloak. She could Silence her footsteps, sure, but she still had to keep to the shadows and dart from alcove to alcove to sneak around at night. An Invisibility Cloak would have been brilliant.

She hefted the picnic basket she’d received from the elves earlier in the day, as she finally got outside the castle. It was filled with delicious food and drink; she’d checked and _maybe_ sampled a bit of it. The basket also had all the additional materials she’d pilfered over the last week or so which they would need for the ritual.

Once outside the castle, it was a much safer walk. Well, relatively safer, anyway, as she was far less likely to be caught by Filch, but the Dementors were still supposed to be wandering around. Oh, sure, they were supposed to stay well away from the castle and the grounds, but if the Dementors thought they could interrupt a Quidditch game, where else did they think they could go?

It hadn’t been intentional, but the protections that they’d laid on Hagrid’s hut were going to work in their favor. A safe space that they could be relatively sure would be Dementor free, with a hut to hide in if the worst happened? It was perfect. They’d spend most of the night right near the hut, only leaving for a short period to visit the lake. 

Fang would be no help, and it wasn’t like Hagrid could cast a Patronus, but Hagrid had mentioned in an offhand way that he’d been sleeping far better since they’d cast the ritual near his hut, although he certainly didn’t call it a ritual. They still hadn't told him, and they didn’t plan on it. 

Ginny grinned as she saw Luna saunter up towards her, coming from a totally different direction. They were doing this. They were really doing this, after so many months of planning. Anticipation thrummed through Ginny’s body like their bonfire from Imbolc. Large, and dancing, and powerful, she tapped her fingers against the basket as she grinned, waving with her free arm. 

“We’re doing this. We’re really doing this.” She smiled at Luna as she spoke her thoughts aloud. 

“We are.” Luna smiled back. 

“And you’re sure? This is permanent. There’s no backing out; its forever. We’ll be forever.” 

“I read the same books you did Ginny. I showed you half of them and skimmed the important bits before you did. Yes, I want this. You came _back_ , Ginny, and I don’t want to ever lose you again. You’re my best friend.” She said this fiercely, and Ginny dropped the basket to the ground to pull Luna into a deep hug. 

“Thank you. You’re my best friend too.” She pulled back, and just stared at Luna for a few moments. “Let’s go, then.” 

They unpacked their picnic basket, pulling everything out one by one. Butterbeer, bread, and desserts were first and foremost. Merlin smile upon that little house elf, he’d gone all out for them. Biscuits, with mini custard cups as well! The Butterbeer was warm, which was a nice surprise. It must have been under a Warming Charm, or maybe in Stasis. They set the food down on the plates they’d been given but waited to pop open the Butterbeer. Ginny took out the short wooden object, no longer than a wooden spoon, and set it on the ground. “ _Engorgio,_ ” she cast at it, and it grew back into its original height. 

“I’m so glad we learned the Shrinking and Engorgement Charm this year. I’d not have looked forward to sneaking out a _spear_.”

“Mmm, me neither.” Luna murmured as she fiddled with trying to get everything to fit on the upside-down picnic basket. “Oh, sod it,” she cursed. “ _Engorgio._ ” 

The picnic basket grew to the size of a table, and suddenly there was more than enough room to lay out all the plates and the food, and to pour out the Butterbeer. 

They puttered around for a few more minutes, until finally there was nothing left to distract themselves with. Luna looked up into the sky. “Waning crescent on the Vernal Equinox. Not a bad sign at all.” 

Ginny nodded, then gestured. “Are you ready?” she asked. 

At Luna’s answering nod, the two of them headed towards the lake. As they walked Ginny felt her nerves creep up her back, tingling on her skin, until she couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Are you sure it’ll be alright?” she asked Luna. “We aren’t… we aren’t doing it _right._ ” 

“Just because we aren’t doing it right, doesn’t mean we’re doing it wrong.” Luna replied, voice light as she trailed beside Ginny. 

“Every book we read said this was supposed to be a sacrificial holiday, and they always mentioned the same kind of sacrifice. We could just skip this bit.” Ginny detested the weakness of her voice as she spoke, the fear and uncertainty she could hear quivering in each word, sure that Luna could hear it as well. She’d never speak such doubts in front of anyone else. She wouldn’t even really admit them to herself. But to Luna, she’d always speak her mind. 

“We could.” Luna allowed. “But you don’t really want to.” 

“I don’t,” Ginny agreed, “but I also don’t want this to go wrong, or for there to be any unexpected backlash.” 

“I don’t think the specifics are important so much. Do you?” 

“No, I don’t.” She agreed. Ginny understood, in a way she hadn’t expected she would, the underlying principles of the ritual they were preparing, she understood how they were changing what they were changing, why they were changing it, knew that theoretically it would work. 

That didn’t alleviate her fears, however. Because that was the problem with theory, wasn’t it? You could never truly be sure until you tested it.

“Thousands of years,” Ginny murmured. “For thousands of years, people have sacrificed animals at this time of year, and we’re just going to decide to change that? Because we’re pretty sure it’ll work?” 

“I doubt we’re the first people to ever change it. But lots of people probably just forgot to write about it. Or didn’t know how to write.” She shrugged. “But if it doesn’t work, what’s the worst that will happen?”

“Do I need to explain again all the terrible, horrible ways that rituals can go wrong?

“No, but if our offering isn’t satisfactory, we’re not asking for so much that it would negatively impact our work, would it?”

“Remember what Professor Flitwick said about a miscast spell. Rituals are even more strict than spells are.”

For the first time that night, Luna looked pensive and unsure. “That’s a good point,” she demurred. She fingered the cork necklace adorned along her neck. “I won’t sacrifice an animal. I won’t.”

“I won’t make you. I would never.” Ginny said. “I just want to make sure you know what we’re getting in to. You focused on trying to find that hidden room, and I focused on this. So now you’re trusting me to get this right, and I just wanted you to know: I’m not completely sure I’m right.” 

Luna looked at her, still playing with her cork necklace. It was one Ginny hadn’t seen before, older and more worn. It used the older style of cork, and Ginny noticed it was from one of her favorite drinks growing up, Swigging Whizzbees. A failed attempt at a branching out from the creator of Fizzing Whizzbees, Ginny had fallen in love with the strawberry flavor; she’d spend most of an entire month a few inches off the ground, she drank so much. 

Luna looked up at Ginny, and simply smiled. “I trust you.” She reached out her hand, and Ginny took it in hers. 

It was enough. 


	13. Climbing

Their waffling had taken them to the edge of the lake, where the moon reflected gently off the surface and the water lapped lightly against the edge. Ginny grasped the object in the pockets of her robe tightly, feeling it’s comforting familiarity. A small wooden twig, stolen from one of the apple orchards in her youth, carved with well-worn marks in the ‘handle.’

Ginny spoke first. “We come before the Black Lake, tonight on this night of balance. We recognize the equal night. We call upon the  _ dísir, _ the women of our past, to protect us and to guide us.”

A calm settled over Ginny as she stood, Luna’s hand still clasped in hers. The lake before them was placid, her words echoing loudly into the space around them as the smell of fresh air and night time dew settled around her. 

“We entreat the  _ dísir, _ our  _ dísir _ , to appear before us. We ask for guidance in our works as we venture forth to greater heights. We learn, we grow, and we ask for oversight.”

Ginny felt on edge, waiting for a similar, familiar feel of buzzing magic to course through her, but it was as though they spoke to only the wind. A slight twinge of disappointment tightened her gut, and she resolutely ignored the shiver of fear she felt at the nape of her neck. This would work, it  _ would _ , they didn’t need to kill in order to sacrifice. Ginny wet her lips, then continued. 

“Three things we ask for, and three things we give.” 

“Stay our hands from malignant works.”

“Urge us onwards to greater heights.”

“Bring calm to us in our hours of strife.” The last line, they spoke in unison. With no pause, Luna continued their alternating lines.

“Three things we ask for, and three things we give.”

“The toy of my childhood.” Ginny tightened her knuckles, one at a time in a wave as she held Lunas hand. Her other hand fingered the twig held safely within her pocket. She hesitated, for only a moment, before she pulled it out. She swallowed heavily, before continuing 

“Picked by my hand, carved by my mother. The false wand of a child, playing pretend. No longer do I indulge in fanciful follies, falling fell foes which do not exist in protection of my second self. Grown now, with a real wand, I treasure the reminder of my youth, filled with fantasies, dreams, good friends and cheer. I offer this to you.” 

Ginny stared at the pretend wand in her hand one last time. Felt its rough bark, and the smooth handle, well-worn from years of grasping it. She remembered the fond look on her mother’s face as she begged with doe eyes to have it carved so she could “slay monsters with Harry Potter, and protect Luna.” Recalled plucking it out of the apple orchard after a trip to Diagon Alley where she’d seen a real, professional toy wand, a  _ practice wand _ , in the shops and had been told that they didn't quite have the money at the time to afford it. She remembered all the laughs, and smiles, and adventures she’d had with this simple twig grasped in her palm. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and pulled back before whipping her arm forward quick and sharp.

Her sacrifice, her  _ blot _ , sliced through the night. A light  _ fwip, fwip, fwip  _ as it flitted quickly forward, dancing end over end, high into the sky and out over the lake. It fell just as quickly as it flew, hit the water’s edge with a gentle  _ plop _ . The moon was only a waning edge of light, and the water’s surface was as dark as the space between the stars. The faux wand quickly disappeared, sinking under and into the gloom of the lake. Ginny could feel it’s loss like a physical blow, a part of her childhood, gone forever. 

“The token of friendships lost and regained.” As Luna spoke, her hand tightened around Ginny’s as well, until they were clasping so hard their hands must’ve been bone white. Her free hand drifted to her necklace, the one with the cork pendant, then pulled it over her head, and held it out, dangling from her fingertips. “Crafted by my hand, taught to me by my mother. On the eve of my unknown loss, happily did I make a talisman to ward off evil for my second self. Kept apart by powers outside our control, I treasure this reminder of our bond as it was; we have been reformed but cannot replicated. I offer this to you.”

Luna stood for a solitary moment as well. Unlike Ginny, she stared intently at the cork necklace, instead of closing her eyes in remembrance. Ginny had to force herself to restrain her hand, her voice, her desire. She wanted to reach out to grasp the necklace. She wanted to shout out “It was meant for me, I want it, it’s mine!” She wanted to proudly display Luna’s necklace, let the world see their friendship and bond. She craved to have their old bond, the friendship of children with nothing to worry about, back in her life as an innocent and pure happiness.

But if wishes were swishes, even Muggles would cast spells

Luna curled in her fingers, lifted her arm above her head, and began to twirl her wrist. The cork picked up speed, slowly at first but gaining momentum, as Luna deftly, nimbly, forced the necklace to swing faster and faster. Ginny wasn’t sure, but thought Luna might be holding her breath, so focused was she on the lake before her. Without warning, with no windup or suggestion, at the crescendo of the spin’s speed Luna simply let go. The necklace  _ soared _ . Out and over the lake, farther than it should have for something so light as a mere cork, it climbed slightly into the air, then cruised out in a gentle arc. Like her wand, Luna’s sacrifice dropped gently, slowly losing altitude. Again, a gentle  _ plop _ signaled its descent into the depths of the lake. Ginny was only lightly surprised to find that, even though it was made of cork and simple string, the necklace still sank quickly into the depths of the murky water. 

“The sum of our earthly wealth.” They spoke in unison, again, and Ginny’s eyes drifted unconsciously to the pouch lying between them on the ground. It contained all of the Galleons Ginny had saved up over the last summer, in addition to what was left of Luna’s allowance. She’d saved up most of her allowance throughout the year, and all of it was in the pouch, excepting for what little she’s given to Fred and George for treats from Hogsmeade when Ginny had done the same, and the few Sickles and Galleons that had occasionally gone mysteriously “missing.” 

“Earned with our labor, gifted by the head of our house. All summer and all year have we scrounged and saved, and we pool it together now as a joint offering. All that we have, all material wealth, we give up to our ancestors. We give back what we have to those who have come before us. We eschew the material for the spiritual. We offer this to you.”

As one, they unclasped their hands and reached down to pick up the pouch, each of them holding on to one of the leather drawstrings. It was heavy in Ginny’s grasp, full to the brim with Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. Given how numb Ginny’s hand was from the tight grip she and Luna held on each other’s hands, if the bag was any heavier it was likely to slip out of her fingers. She held tight, though, resolute as she and Luna swung the money pouch between them, back and forth one, two, three times. On the third swing, they let go of the pouch together, and it went sailing high up into the sky, before crashing down sharply into the lake. A heavy  _ splash _ as it broke the surface of the water contrasted the faint sounds that had been made by their two personal sacrifices.

They stood there, side by side in the empty night, and Ginny strained all her senses for some semblance of recognition for their work. Unlike their earlier magical rituals, both the one she’d watched and the one shed participated in, Ginny felt no creeping energy, no powerful magic surrounding or filling her. For the briefest of moments, she felt doubt deep within her. A treasured childhood possession. A gift meant for her that she never received. All of those  _ Galleons _ . Gone, and for nothing. 

Before her melancholy truly set in, the water before them began to rise and change shape. Only, as Ginny watched, transfixed, she realized the lake was still placid as ever, only lightly lapping at the shore. A ghost was flowing upwards and outwards, rising out of the lake. Ginny had a brief moment where she almost let out a laugh; she thought it was Myrtle, come to question them. Any humor quickly died at her sight of the severe face of the ghost. A tall, dark haired woman, translucent in the moonlight, floated before them. 

She stared down at them as they stared up at her. Narrowed eyes, pursed lips, Ginny had no idea who she was. She wanted to look to Luna next to her, to see if her friend knew, but the ghost’s glare held her captive. 

Her voice was as harsh as her visage. A sharp thing, filled with savage consonants and short vowels, it snapped like the tail of a manticore, dangerous and poisonous. 

“Sacrifice? What have you of worth to sacrifice? Trinkets and baubles and coin.” Ginny quaked beneath the ghost, fear running up her spine. The ghost couldn’t do anything to her, she  _ knew _ that, This was only a ghost, intangible and not truly there, but she couldn’t comprehend it. Her feelings ran amok without her control, and all she could feel in that moment was distress to be caught by the most terrifying ghost she’d ever met. 

“Blood.” The woman whispered. “Sacrifice and _blood_ are where power lie. Half is not enough, a dangerous thing to start and yet not finish. Worse, _dísablót_ is a sacred holiday. To change a ritual holiday is no trifle, least of all one practiced for thousands of years, again and again by those more knowledgeable and powerful than you. Keen am I to let fate run its course, to let stupidity beget the disaster it courts and deserves. Yet I see a Raven among you two, so find myself compelled to act. Spill blood before the night ends, little _seiðkona,_ or misfortune may cling to you like black clings to the night.” 

She stared at them, waiting for something, yet Ginny had no idea what to give the ghost. Fear held her like a vice, freezing her body while her mind ran ahead with a thousand thoughts on just how terribly they’d messed up. Luckily, Luna didn’t seem to share her reservations. 

“We thank you, Grey Lady. We shall take heed. We had prepared a binding ritual to become blood sisters this night; we shall complete it next.” Overly formal and stiff, the words and cadence sounded wrong tripping out of Luna’s lips. Calm, flowing, and melodic was Luna’s regular cadence, and yet responding to the Grey Lady she sounded stilted.

“Good. You shall have to hope it is enough. From your folly already completed, however, I’ve no help to offer. In your workings the rest of the night, you may find yourself cursed, or blessed, or ignored if your sacrifice was deemed sufficient.” She sneered, then, and Ginny couldn’t help but think that Snape might have something to learn from her. “Let’s see what your recklessness has wrought.”

Ginny and Luna moved forwards cautiously towards the water’s edge where the Grey Lady was gesturing them to. They both peered into the Black Lake, the water’s surface living up to its name. Ginny stared deeply, wondering what she was supposed to be looking for, fear keeping her from giving up or looking towards the ghost. She stared, and stared, and stared, until she felt like if she stared any harder she’d fall right into the lake and be consumed by the cold black water. 

Nothing happened.

She looked back up to see the Grey Lady floating there, watching them both intently. Luna looked relieved as she smiled up at the Grey Lady. “Luck, young Raven. Do not rely on it.” 

Perhaps Luna had felt something?

The Grey Lady turned her glare to Ginny, and Ginny could only duck her head. She hadn’t felt a thing, that was certain. 

The ghost pursed her lips. “Try the fire,” was all she said, before giving them a sharp nod.

The pale woman floated back along the water, disturbing the face of the lake not at all as she moved across it. Fog rose from the lake, obscuring her pale, translucent visage until Ginny was no longer sure where the ghost ended and the fog began. 

The two girls walked back in silence, feet leaden and steps heavy as the weight of their potential error hung upon them. As they approached their enlarged picnic basket, Ginny turned to Luna to apologize.

“Luna, I’m-.”

“Well, it seems-.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and tension broke as they both laughed lightly. “You first,” Ginny gestured. 

“It seems you were right to be worried. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. You were the one who did the research, and if you had worries, I should have listened. I’m sorry.”

“No!” Ginny gasped. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure, and I told you it was probably fine. I  _ did _ think it would probably fine. I should have been more careful.”

“I guess we’ll both just have to be more cautious in the future.” 

They paused for a few moments, just standing near each other. “Food?” Luna eventually said. 

“Food.” Ginny agreed. They tore into the food the house elves had prepared for them, bread and meat and butterbeer. 

“You really didn’t feel anything?” Luna asked as they ate. Ginny shook her head. “We should start a fire, and you should try meditating on that, like I did on the lake. The Grey Lady said it might help.”

“Who was she, do you know?” 

“Ravenclaw’s house ghost.”

“Oh. I’m glad you’ve such a helpful house ghost. Nick doesn’t do much, he just moans about being only mostly headless, not actually headless, and how sad he is he can’t join the headless hunt.” 

“That’s truthfully the first I’ve heard her speak, to anyone. She normally just floats around acting morose.”

“She didn’t look sad to me, Luna. She looked angry.”

“I think she was. Try the fire, you might know what I mean.” Ginny rolled her eyes, but went about gathering some kindling and setting out an edge of stones to contain it. 

“ _ Incendio. _ ” 

The twigs sparked into life, a crackling fire appearing from nothing, and growing fast. Ginny sat down, cross legged, butterbeer in hand as she stared deeply into the fire. She let her mind wander as she stared, allowing her focus to narrow onto the flickering flames.

It felt a bit like her daily meditations, like her mind was dancing along with the fire itself. She lost track of time as she stared. The maelstrom of emotions within her, all the things she’d been keeping at bay since their ordeal, they welled up within her. Fear of her failure’s consequences, gratefulness to the ghost who warned them, fury at the ghost for not stopping them sooner, loathing of herself for being so stupid and prideful and  daring in the worst sense of the word. So many more, so plentiful she couldn’t name them all, they danced within her and threatened to overwhelm her. 

She counted her breathing, like in her meditation exercises. Slowly, ever so slowly, her emotions calmed. They settled. The fire crackled, the distant sound soothing, as she watched embers jump and spark. As she stared into the flames she began to feel a sense of otherness. As she watched the flames play, she imagined she saw images within them. A lick of flame became a whip of hair, the visage of a face in the embers, the crack of the logs the sharp bark of a woman.

The longer she watched, the longer she let her mind wander. The harsher the heat became, the angrier the otherness bearing down on her felt. An undercurrent of desire strung through the anger as well, a greedy, capricious, hungry want that fueled the anger. She felt the moment it changed, the moment she became the center of attention for some alien otherness. A feeling of waiting, of incompleteness overcame her, a sense of urgency. She felt judged, and found to be just barely acceptable, but desperately wanting. She imagined the echoes of scorching heat on her skin whispering to her  _ “Next time, do it right, or don’t do it at all.”  _

She shivered, in spite of the prickling heat of the blaze before her. 

She looked up at Luna, breaking her connection to the fire. Luna was staring at her, as focused on her as she had been on the flames. 

“The second ritual?” She murmured. 

“You still want to go through with it?” Luna asked. “The first one you were nervous about, and I didn’t listen. If you’re nervous about this one, I’ll listen this time.”

“No, this one I’m sure of. Besides, didn’t you hear the Grey Lady? Even if we didn’t want to, even if I wasn’t sure, we  _ need _ to do this one.”

“Okay.”    


* * *

 

They moved away slightly from the fire. As they passed by their overturned picnic basket, Ginny picked up the small wooden rod laying against it along with a few other small tools. “ _ Finite Incantatem” _ she murmured as she waved her wand at the rod. It grew rapidly in height, dwarfing her in size. The tip of it gleamed in the firelight, a sharp spear point with a deadly edge. 

Ginny and Luna stood across from each other, and Ginny laid the spear between them. They caught each other’s eyes, and gave a sharp nod. It was time to begin .

Ginny handed one of the tools over to Luna and they both knelt down to begin carving. Ginny had nicked a few rune carvers from some older students. Ginny and Luna had three runes in total to carve; one for Ginny, one for Luna, and one for the both of them. They carved the runes up the length of the shaft of the spear, over and over and over. Painstakingly slow, and with no practice or skill, they did their best to carve the runes as precisely as possible. 

Ginny was glad that the book Luna had found on the ritual had suggestions for runes to use. Trying to learn all the intricacies, subtleties, and meanings of the whole Futhark alphabet to make their decision would have been far too much work. They wouldn’t have been able to complete this ritual so soon. Having a shortened list of suggestions had been immensely helpful. 

Once the spear was adorned with carvings, they stood up, and stepped back. As she stood, Ginny felt a prickling along her skin. What she’d thought had been the residual heat of the fire was now too strong to be merely the flames. Ginny felt her breath hitch and her pulse quicken, unbidden. She felt as though there were a thousand, thousand eyes upon her, upon them, watching their work. 

As one, the two girls pulled out their wands. A sharp twist and slash, and two concurrent incantations of  _ “Diffindo” _ left deep gashes along the earth. Parallel lines stretched out before them, dividing a strip of the ground. 

Step. Bend. Heave. 

They each grabbed the earth, fingers digging into the hard ground and pulling. They pulled slowly to prevent the earth from crumbling in their grasp, but still bits and pieces fell. Slowly, ever so slowly, the earth was formed into an arch above the ground, the ends still attached at the ground. Ginny shifted, and grabbed Luna’s side as well, to hold the whole thing up above her head. 

Her shoulders strained as her arms stretched high above her head, her back was tight and she set her jaw. She could hold for a few moments while Luna grabbed the spear. 

It came out of nowhere, so close she could reach out and lick the wooden shaft, right near her face. Any closer and Luna would’ve sliced open an eye. 

With measured movements, Ginny extricated herself from holding up the earth. She and Luna stood on opposite sides of the turf. In the flickering blaze of the firelight, Ginny felt the pressure mounting. Her hair stood on end, her fingers clenched, a shiver ran down her spine. She curled her toes, tightened every muscle in her body, swallowed deeply. She breathed in, looked Luna in the eyes, and smiled. 

Step. Step. Step. 

Under the turf, it was as though the world fell away. Nothing else existed but them, their spear, and their runes. They stood there for a long while. Only for them did that place exist, and Ginny felt at once both excited and calm. 

She drank in the image of her best friend, Pale hair and wide eyes. A smile adorned Luna’s lips as well, a coy thing that hinted at a deeper happiness. Standing tall and willowy in her white night dress, swaying lightly as though a gentle breeze would blow her away, Luna spoke. 

“Who uses it knows no pain,

sorrow nor anxiety, and she herself has

prosperity and bliss, and also enough shelter.

“I call upon joy. I offer to be a refuge, a pasture to come to, so you may release your agonies. A reminder that darkness may always finds us, but it also always passes. Find shelter with me in the forming of a new clan, one solely our own, as I know I will. Become my sister. Let us be bound together and allow us to realize together our greatest happiness, our highest joy, our unparalleled fellowship, through the strength of our bond.

Luna reached up gingerly, and placed her palm gently against the blade of the spear, hand held high above her head. Ginny caught her eye, and the barest hint of a nod from Ginny gave way to a light curl of the tip of Luna’s lips. 

“Wunjo.”

In a single, smooth gesture Luna’s hand was pulled down. It sliced along the tip of the spear, her motion as sharp as the edge of the blade. Blood welled along the metal edge, dripping in time with the cut across Luna’s palm, which Luna held aloft. Crimson trickled down onto the shaft of the spear, then swirled around in an unnatural curve. 

Around, around, around, touching each etched instance of the rune Luna had carved. Each wunjo rune lit up faintly, a gently glowing red in contrast with the deep red lines connecting them to each other. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Ginny didn’t want to lift her eyes to Luna. She wanted to keep them firmly on the spear. Just as Luna’s chant had been a personalized version of what they had found written in their book tucked in the back of the library, where it most definitely shouldn’t have been shelved, Ginny’s was a personal chant as well. Her thoughts, feelings, emotions, her very being she had poured into this incantation. She was afraid to let it out, to let her emotions and innermost feelings become so public. 

The last time she’d spilled her soul, she’d almost lost it. 

But this was Luna. She forced her eyes up from the spear, and looked into the silvery eyes of her best friend. She, who so proudly and calmly declared her intent to become her sister. Ginny had many brothers. She learned to scrap, to fight, to laugh, to argue with and from them. But a sister was something else entirely, something special. Certain things couldn’t be shared with boys, brothers or no. 

She searched within Luna’s eyes, not sure what she was seeking but desperately needing to find it. The calm, easy look Luna gave her was exactly what Ginny was looking for. 

Trust. Reassurance. 

Love. 

Ginny spoke. 

“The horse is a joy to princes in the presence of warriors.

A steed in the pride of its hoofs,

when rich men on horseback bandy words about it;

and it is ever a source of comfort to the restless.

“I call upon the horse. I offer a relationship of such depth that it transcends all others. As the rider trusts the horse to carry him, the horse trusts the rider to guide them. I offer to be your horse and your rider, in equal parts, as I know you will offer the same. Let us find comfort in each other, and our bond, as the world around us toils in conflict and strife. Let us be equal and harmonious, in all that we do, with a bond that is stronger and more primal than all others.”

Ginny lifted her hand, eyes still locked on Luna’s. She went by touch, and only stifled a flinch when her palm rested against the cold edge of the spear because she was expecting it. Her shoulder strained, her arm stretched all the way up, just tall enough for her hand to reach the blade. Was it cold against her palm because the spear was so sharp? Or did it feel especially sharp due to the bitter cold of the night?

The fire she’d started earlier felt far away as she rested her hand against the blade. Mirroring her own actions from earlier, Luna gave a slight nod, almost imperceptible. Ginny felt the edge of her lip curl against her will. Their own private world beneath the turf, held aloft by the spear, the only sound was the blood from Lunas palm plummeting towards the earth.

_ Drip. Drip. Drip. _

Ginny  _ pulled _ her palm against the spear, slicing into her hand and offering her blood, sacrificing of herself to their bond. As she made the sacrifice, she whispered the final word to seal her part. 

“Ehwaz.”

The spear was balanced now, scarlet dripping from both edges in sync. Ginny’s blood fell like Lunas, attracted unnaturally, bizarrely, magically to the edge of the shaft. It swirled counter to Luna’s, hitting each instance of Ehwaz, all etched by Ginny’s hand. Faintly colored wunjo and ehwaz runes, each separated by an untouched rune and connected to the next set of rune by deep, dark lines of crimson staining the wood of the spear. 

Luna and Ginny each reached out their hands, past the spear and into the other’s half of the turf. Hands held aloft such that the blood of their palms, their sacrifice to each other and to magic, dripped slowly onto the ground below them and into the earth. Ginny risked a quick glance down, and saw the earth didn't look stained at all. It was as though it had swallowed everything they’d offered, drinking it up into itself. 

Eye contact, once again, and they took a deep breath together. They spoke, together. 

“Generosity brings credit and honour, which support one’s dignity; 

it furnishes help and subsistence 

to all broken people who are devoid of aught else.

“We call upon the gift. Our family is a gift. Our life is a gift. Our magic is a gift. We would forsake all these for the gift of our bond. We shall treasure the gift of our sister, chosen not given, above all others. When all is lost, when there is nothing left, we shall have each other. It will embolden us, it will guide us, it will push us to survive and to thrive. Our bond shall be the giver, and we the receiver. In return, we shall give everything to the bond, and it will take what it will. We will become one; we will become sisters.”

They each pulled their hands in together, clasping hand to forearm around the spear. Ginny felt her slick hand hold tightly to Luna, holding on with all that she had. She felt the iron grip of Lunas hand on hers, grasping tight against the slippery blood which coated them. 

“Gebo.”

Liquid red swirled along the shaft of the spear, downwards and upwards, connecting each gebo rune to the other gebo runes, which completed each set of three. 

Ginny felt the air around them become thicker, like a weight settling on her shoulders. She could faintly hear, for the first time in what felt like forever, the crackling of the fire in the distance. The only sound from the outside world to enter in to their own little space, their alcove underneath the earth where they pledged themselves to each other as sisters, forever. Her breath hitched as she could feel the magic in their blood seeping down their hands, over the spear, into the earth beneath them. 

Fear crept up her spine as the air around her became unbearably hot, stifling her. It had no source, no reason, but Ginny felt undeniably afraid of  _ something  _ as she stood arm in arm with Luna.

Ginny curled her toes into the earth beneath her as she stared at Luna, who stared right back at her, each of them looking to the other for strength. Luna’s eyes were filled with fright as well, wide and shaking. The snapping of the flames crescendoed louder and louder, their hands still gripping their forearms, until there was a loud  _ crack _ that startled them past fear and into panic. They gripped each other tighter, instead of letting go. Ginny felt something inside her blossom, as her nails dug deep into Lunas arm, as she felt Luna dig into her own forearm as well. Was the blood welling down their forearms from their sliced palm? Or had they broken each others skin along the forearm?

Ginny didn’t dare look to check, didn’t dare break eye contact with Luna, and that feeling that had burst inside her grew. Alarm, concern, fright, all feelings Ginny felt deeply. But underneath it all, a current of swelling curiosity. Ginny felt it like a burbling stream, knew that in an instant it could become a raging current, and it was held back only by the utter strength of the other emotions. 

Ginny realized it only a moment after Luna did, when she recognized the joy lighting up her eyes at the exact moment she felt the nebulous  _ something _ within her be overtaken by joy. 

She was feeling  _ Luna _ . Triumph filled her as she whooped aloud, a barking laugh that escaped her lips outside her control. She felt exhilarated and filled to the brim with glee. There was a light  _ thud _ , but Ginny didn’t look to see what it was. She was vaguely aware of the light around them changing, becoming slightly brighter, but she refused to look away from Luna. She refused to tear apart their gaze lest their connection be broken. 

Arms still clasped, the two of them stood there for what must have been ages, but didnt feel anywhere near long enough. Ginny reveled in the ability to  _ feel _ Luna, feel her emotions swirling within her. They gallivanted around, flitting to and fro like a Blibbering Humdinger.

Eventually, the had to break. Their arms grew stiff, and their eyes were dry. How long had it been since Ginny had blinked? They let their arms fall apart, and Ginny fluttered her eyes. She looked down at her arm, and saw that yes, Luna had broken her skin with her fingernails. Angry red lines marred her skin, half-moon crescents littered across her arm. 

She ran her fingers gently over the five marks. They stung, slightly, and Ginny was almost tempted to heal them with a quick spell. Something held her back, though. Instead, she let her arm drop to her side, and looked down where Luna was peering at the ground, bent at the knee. 

Something was stuck in the ground beneath Luna’s gaze. As Ginny kneeled over as well to look, she realized it was two somethings. The head of the spear was cracked in two pieces, and each was embedded in the earth. Ginny reached to grab one, and pulled her hand back quickly to her mouth. 

“Hot!” she murmured around her thumb, as she sucked it. 

“That wasn’t your brightest idea,” Luna whispered back, a laugh threatening to escape her lips and lighting up her eyes. 

“Yeah, well, shut up,” she grumbled. “We can’t just leave it here. At least we weren’t planning on putting the spear back anyways.” 

“Give it a few moments to cool off?” Luna suggested. 

“Sure.” They both moved to the fire at the same time. Neither of them had said anything, but they’d just  _ known _ that they’d both move together. An awareness of the other had settled itself deeply, Ginny could feel it, and could feel that Luna could feel it, and could feel that Luna felt her feeling Luna feel-.

Ginny suddenly went a little faint, and stumbled into Luna who went faint with her. Supporting each other, they slid down to the ground before the fire. It had gone down quite a bit, snapping and crackling only lightly now. Tiny flickers of flame still danced here and there, but mostly it was embers that laid before them. 

Ginny stoked the flames with a twig she’d found. She felt a shiver sneak up her arms as the hair of her arms stood on end from the heat which prickled a path along her body. The flames jumped and played as she stoked them, watched them greedily consume the extra twigs and small log she fed to the fire pit. She leaned back into Luna, who was looking not at the fire, but out across the way towards the small bit of the Black Lake visible through the thrashing limbs of the Whomping WIllow. 

Ginny let Luna be, content to just be beside her, and stared into the fire. She took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. 

In. Out. 

In. Out. 

In. Out.

She counted the breaths, one by one by one, until her mind was clear, nothing but counting and flames. Eventually, the world was nothing but the dancing twirls of firelight. Soon, that too was gone. 

* * *

 

A scorching heat. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to smell, to taste, to touch. The only thing was the searing heat that was her existence. It lasted forever. It was over before it begun. No concept of time, no understanding of space, only pure, unchanged fiery existence. 

When it ended, it was with a gentle light. Red, yellow, orange, white, blue, green, it shifted to and fro in a sinuous dance. Slowly, it settled on red, a bright crimson scarlet, and it fell down in waves. She refocused her attention, and it fell down back and behind a face. There were no details that could be picked out that defined it as a face. You couldn’t point to one piece and say ‘this is the nose’ or another and say ‘these are the eyes’ or ‘this is the mouth.’ Yet it was a face all the same.

“You are given a boon, in spite of your failure.” Were those words? Were they thoughts? Were the emotions, given form and substance through her own filter? She wasn’t sure. 

“Do not waste it. We have expectations now. Do not fail to meet them.”

The heat all around her which had ebbed away came back again, scorching and concentrated on her, roaming over her body, from her toes to her head, up and up and scorching her away. It hurt. It hurt so badly, but was so welcome. At least she wasn’t cold, she’d take anything other than cold, and like this, she’d never be cold again.

“Ginny.” Who?

Oh. That was her. 

“Ginny.” Yes, that was her name. 

She was busy, being seared into nothingness. Please leave her be. 

“Ginny!” And she felt something else. She was no longer just Ginny. There was more to her, someone she had to come back for. She couldn’t let the scorching fires devour her, much as she wanted to, much as she craved it, because she wasn’t alone anymore. 

She had Luna. Just the thought of the name was enough to cool her. Not cold, never cold, but calming, and soothing, and gentle. 

Cooling. 

Like the placid surface of the lake, reflecting moonlight out into the night sky, it didn’t douse the scorching heat that she was, but tamed them. At the same time as her own fires burned and cooled, she felt out into the calm placidity, and the further into it she went, the less placid it became. 

Her world morphed slowly, cratered mirrors of ghostly pale silver, reflecting back over and over upon itself. Deep ripples, like stones thrown upon a lake, accompanied her every movement through and around her new existence. 

The further she dove, the wilder it became. A seething, unrelenting madness, a fury of raging tides. She unshackled herself before it, became a beacon of warmth and light and calm. She felt the heat prickle, desperate to pick up and become a storm of fire and fury to match the raging madness beneath her. But that wouldn’t help, it would only make things worse. 

She called out to her friend, to her sister. 

“Luna,” she whispered without vocal chords. No, just the name wouldn’t be enough. 

“Luna,” she stated, putting into the word all that she could think of that encapsulated her sister. Her looks, her mannerisms, her belief. Every detail she’d ever noticed about Luna, she forced it all into the name. 

“Luna,” she said at last, embedded with everything that Luna meant to her. Their friendship, their sisterhood, their love for one another. How strongly she felt it all, she injected it into her name.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the world around her once again became that calm, cooling lake, lapping currents rippling through the image of a reflected moon. As it calmed, so too did the intensity of her own furious heat, until all around was a comfortable, soothing, calm and serene warmth. 

She basked in it, content and happy. That feeling floated with her all the way back into unawareness.

* * *

 

A large  _ pop _ forced Ginny awake. Her eyes flew open, and the world came into focus around her. The fire before her crackled lightly, back down to only embers. She leaned into Luna, who leaned back into her, shoulder to shoulder, back to back. 

They sat there like that for a short while, and watched while the sun crested the horizon. Together, they stood and stretched. 

Ginny walked back over to the site of their ritual, and found the spear they had used. Rather, she found its shaft lying on the ground, surrounded by torn up earth. The rune carvings they’d etched into the wood were no longer there, although looking closely Ginny could see trails of deep red swirls stained into the discarded pole. 

She looked around for the head of the spear, and saw that Luna had found it first. The spearhead had shattered, cracked in two, and Luna was reaching right for one of them!

“Luna! Wait!” Ginny cried.

Luna turned to look at her, eyes squinted in confusion. “For what?”

“Don’t you remember last night?” Ginny prompted. “I burned myself on one of those.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s cooled down by now, don’t you think?”

“It shouldn’t have been hot last night to begin with, so I don’t really know.” 

“That,” Luna said as she pointed a finger up at Ginny from her crouched over position “is a very good point.” Saying so, she reached out and picked up one of the pieces regardless.

“Luna!” Ginny screeched. 

“Oh my,” was her whispered response. She picked up the second shard, and handed it over to Ginny. “Would you look at that?” 

Engraved in each half of the head of the spear was a layered rune. Wunjo, on Ehwaz, on Gebo. As Ginny turned the spearhead in her hand to get a better look, the shine of the metal shimmered a slight scarlet, passing over the edge of the blade from bottom to tip. 

“We should make them into necklaces.” Luna murmured. “Our own sister-rune, personal to us, designed by our magic. It’s a special thing, don’t you think?” 

Ginny couldn’t help but agree.

As Luna turned one of the two broken pieces of spearhead over to her, Ginny saw a glimpse of something on Luna’s arm, and she immediately reached out to grasp her. Luna stilled in her hands, and Ginny bent her arm this way and that. 

“I left marks.” Ginny whispered. “I’m so sorry, Luna, I didn’t realize I’d squeezed you this hard.” She trailed her fingers over the five white marks that littered Luna’s forearm, impressions of Ginny’s fingernails. 

Luna peaked at them. “I like them. They shouldn’t have healed so fast, but I’m glad they did. They’re like gentle white waves, cresting upon my arm.” She tilted her head at Ginny. “Did you know that’s what your name means? Ginevra: ‘White waves, or white shadow.’ It shares one of those meanings with its predecessor, Guinevere. Guinevere, Arthur’s wife, means ‘Fair, white, blessed,’ and ‘phantom, magical being.’ In other words, white shadow.”

Ginny stared at her in awe as she spoke, then looked down at her own arm. Five indents marred her right arm as well, but instead of the deep red they’d been the night before, they were now a puckered white, with red rings around them. 

“They shouldn’t have healed so fast,” she muttered. “But when I saw them last night, I thought of them as tiny little crescent moons.”

She looked up and saw Luna smiling brightly. “Then I suppose we’ve both marked each other, and magic has made it permanent. We’re sisters now, Ginny. It would seem that you’re stuck with me forever.”

“Good,” she smiled back “because that’s exactly where I’d like to spend forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So, I'm trying my hand at fanfiction again. This is a story that has been on my mind, in some capacity, for a few years now. I've got most of the whole thing written, and maybe the first half of it self edited (or edited with help). This will be a stand alone story, only covering the content of Prisoner of Azkaban. I hope to write the rest of Ginny's years at Hogwarts, but I didn't want to get a head of myself. And although it will largely be subtle, this story is DEFINITELY AU. It won't necessarily be easily seen right away, and many of the events of Canon will still happen (definitely during Prisoner of Azkaban and Goblet of Fire, if I end up writing that much). But they won't necessarily be things that Ginny is dealing with or worrying about, so hopefully the stories will still be fresh and interesting.
> 
> I need to give a huge thank you to my good friend Clare for being a sounding board for me, and helping edit some of the earlier works/chapters. I doubt if I would have gotten as far into this as I have without her!
> 
> For reference, I'm going to tentatively say that I'll be posting an update every Monday, but I refuse to promise that. We'll keep it as a rough estimate of how I hope things will play out. Please, if you enjoy this, leave a review for me. I'd love to hear everyone's (constructive or positive) thoughts and opinions on the story!


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